Destiny Will Be The Death Of Me
by Major Trouble
Summary: Prince Han Solo wants to race swoop bikes, protect his brother, and find a pretty girl. But the galaxy is never that simple. AU. Sister story to /s/7347926/1/
1. The Devil Children

**This is a little later than I'd hoped it would be, but I hope you enjoy it. Yes, Han Solo is a Prince. Characters belong to LucasFilm.**

_**Destiny Will Be The Death Of Me**_

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away..

"Come on, we're leaving for Alderaan," Jonash said, grabbing his young son by his undeveloped biceps. The boy protested, digging his heals into the lush green grass of the castle courtyard. Unfortunately, the sun was in his eyes as he fell backward onto his elbows, and he couldn't see more than his father's silhouette, even when he brought his hand up to his forehead. Actually, that was probably a good thing, since all he would see was a very angry expression on his father's normally serene face.

"I don't wanna go to stupid Alderaan! There's nothing to do there! I'm a prince, why don't you listen to me?"

That only angered his father further. He'd been dealing with this attitude for the past week already – only about these particular trip, mind you, he'd had many other problems with his son in the past – and he was entirely fed up with it. Why couldn't he be more like his brother? Jonash's elder son loved Alderaan. "Because _I'm_ a _king_. And what about that boy from the kitchens you and your brother always play with when we're there?" he asked in an irritated voice.

Scrambling out of reach of his father, the boy stood up slowly and complained, "But he's got work all the time and he don't like me much anyways!"

"Maybe I should put _you_ to work in the kitchens," Jonash responded, stepping forward and grabbing the boy again. "You could use some discipline. And grammar lessons." He threw him over his shoulder and headed toward the front gate of the castle.

Though his son complained loudly and beat his fists hard on Jonash's back, the man did not let him go until they were outside the castle. His nursemaid, Vilyx, approached them with the boy's bag rolling along behind her. Naturally he had refused to pack it, so she had been forced to. Once he had to wear the clothes in it, however, he wouldn't be happy. No shorts and tee shirts, all dress clothes. Special instructions from his father, of course.

One thing she had packed that he _would_ like was his stuffed tauntaun toy, something the boy refused to admit he still slept with and brought everywhere. After all, eight-year-olds do _not_ sleep with toy tauntauns. Especially not princes, unless maybe they're babies. Why did he still _have_ that stupid toy? he would ask. Because you still _like_ Renn, would be the answer. That's the toy's name. Renn. Not very original, especially considering he took it from his older brother, who had a stuffed bantha named Renn. Besides, if someone mentioned throwing out or donating the toy, it mysteriously disappeared until the heat wore off. The young prince never saw the knowing smiles from his parents.

The family of four took their private yacht for the quick ride to Alderaan, accompanied by the boys' nursemaid and a small band of bodyguards. As usual, the boys spent half the time arguing and the other half playing hide-and-seek, and Vil spent half her time trying to break up the fights and the other half trying to track them down and get them where they were supposed to be – which was never where they were.

"These boys are demons," she said to their parents, dragging the boys towards the King and Queen as they got ready to disembark on Alderaan. Jaina nodded in agreement, and Jonash just sighed. There was no denying that. The two were always trouble. At least before Currier was born, there was only one little devil. They loved their kids, but still.

"Han, Currier, get your bags," their father ordered, waving a hand in the direction of their suitcases. Han, at least, had packed his own, so he was wearing a fairly casual outfit as far as princes go. Currier was stuck in a stuffy black tuxedo, because not only did Han refuse to share his spare clothes, he was two years older and so just big enough that his clothes wouldn't fit Currier very well anyway.

Grumbling, Currier dragged his suitcase, upside down, down the ramp and off the yacht. "Why are we here, anyway?" he muttered angrily, clutching Renn to his chest. He was too tired, having been literally dragged out of bed, to care if anyone saw the toy. Han had his own stuffed bantha in one arm, his pillow tucked under the other, and had politely asked one of the bodyguards to take his suitcase, which the man had done quite willingly – more willingly than he'd given up his blaster when they'd landed. The Solos' guards disliked being unarmed, even on a planet like Alderaan where no one else was armed, either.

Shooting his brother a dirty look, Currier dropped his bag and threw his arms around Han, knocking him to the ground. The two stuffed toys fell next to them as the boys rolled in the grass, tussling. With a muted swear in an alien language, Jonash stopped and watched with his arms crossed over his chest, until their energy ran out and they eventually got up on their own.

When they did stand, however, the boys almost wished they were still fighting. Instead, they were each thrown over the shoulder of one of the Solo family's bodyguards, while another took their luggage. Humiliated, Han and Currier were carried like that into the palace, home to Alderaan's Royal Family. The worst part was when they stopped to talk to Bail Organa – and the boys were left over the guards' shoulders. This was particularly embarrassing to Han, who was much closer to the Viceroy of Alderaan than his brother.

After arranging for his boys to have two separate rooms, Jonash and his wife headed to the palace's enormous dining room, Currier in tow. Han had to go change into something more suitable, but of course nothing quite like the tux Currier was in.

At the head of the table sat Bail Organa, with his wife Breha next to him. In the man's arms was a little baby girl wrapped in a white blanket.

"So this is Leia?" Jonash asked after the formalities were past and he was seated on Bail's right.

"Yes," Bail responded simply, passing over his daughter. "She's three weeks old." Two seats down, Han was trying to get his brother to sit up. Currier was slumped forward, head propped up on one arm, not understanding why they'd had to travel all the way to Alderaan just to see some stupid little baby. Han didn't much get it either, but knew that, especially in the presence of another Royal Family, they had to behave.

After a bit of general baby-admiring to which neither boy paid much attention, they were _finally_ served dinner. Of course it wasn't any more than ten minutes, max, but to the two young princes it seemed like much longer before they got their Alderaan stew, flatbread, and smoothies – a drink Bail knew they were partial to. There was also roast gorak for everyone else, but Han was allergic to one of the spices in it, so Bail had asked the kitchens to prepare him some smoked nerf.

While he ate the hot stew, Han couldn't help throwing furtive glances at two things – the baby, who sat in her crib behind Breha, and the glasses of Alderaanian wine that sat next to each adult's plate. He had tasted alcohol once before, at a party here on Alderaan. Iorek, the young Alderaanian kitchen boy the princes were friends with, had snagged some of the wine and the two shared it in one of the hidden passages connecting the various store rooms in the palace dungeons. It hadn't been that great, actually, and Han wondered why adults liked it so much. Currier knew nothing about that particular episode, because he would undoubtedly have told on them.

"You know, Han," Bail started, watching the young Corellian eat his smoked nerf, "your friend Iorek cooked that. It's the first meal he cooked by himself."

Knowing Iorek as he did, that might have worried Han if he hadn't already taken several bites of the nerf and found it delicious. In fact, he suspected Bail had intentionally waited for him to eat, for just that reason.

"Thank you, Prince Bail," Han said respectfully, bowing his head slightly. Currier looked enviously at his brother's aforementioned special meal, because while he liked roast gorak, he preferred smoked nerf and wished they'd made some for him too. Who knew allergies could be helpful sometimes?

Han smirked at his brother. "What's the matter, Currier?" he asked under his breath. He very well knew his brother's food preferences, and though generally better-behaved than the younger boy, he definitely instigated many of their… disagreements.

Scowling, Currier slurped up the rest of his stew and began picking at his gorak.

After dinner, the two boys and Vil were sent to Princess Leia's playroom, along with the baby, another girl around the age of one, and their nursemaid. Judging by the harried look on her face, the nursemaid needed a break, so when Vil offered to take over for all four kids, she hurried out of the room with only a quick, excited 'thank you.'

Han and Currier were not exactly thrilled by the room. All the 'toys' were just stuffed animals and blankets and baby books. There weren't any toy blasters or old-fashioned swords or anything! Not even a computer.

Eventually Currier sat in the middle of the room, shirt untucked and shoes thrown in the corner. In his hand he held a toy bantha – hard, not stuffed like his brother's– and was using it to attack the stuffed toys. Especially the ones who looked innocent and 'cutesy.' At one point he managed to use the bantha's horn to tear open the belly of a mynock who didn't hold any resemblance to an actual mynock.

Meanwhile Han took a nap in the corner, using his brother's formal jacket as a pillow; Leia lay in her crib "listening" to Vil tell a story; the other girl, Winter, sat in _her_ crib sucking on the corner of her blanket.

The next three days passed in much the same way – unenjoyable meals and even worse 'play dates' in the unimpressive playroom. All in all, it was not a fun trip for the either prince, and despite his friendship with Iorek and his closeness to Bail, Han was all too happy when they finally left.

He was particularly annoyed, though he never once showed it, that his parents had tried to force him to play with the little baby – both of them, in fact. Leia was only a few weeks old! And what kind of name was 'Leia,' anyway?

And she wasn't that cute. She spit up several times, and was kinda chubby. Plus, she cried a lot and was really fussy. And she didn't even look like her parents, either.


	2. Currier's Curse

_**Destiny Will Be The Death Of Me**_

"Get offa me!" Currier exclaimed in a muted shout, shoving his older brother away. Han had been way too overprotective lately; never fun when you were trying to sneak out of a castle to go to parties you weren't old enough to go to in a city you weren't supposed to roam free in. In this instance, he had just gotten _back_ from such a trip, and it was nearing 0400 local time when Han had found him.

"Cur, you idiot, Mother and Father know you're not here!" he insisted. That got Currier's attention – he had never been caught before, and now would be a terrible time for that to happen. here was no denying he was groggy, though not overly intoxicated. Not to mention he was already in a load of trouble for the prank he had played last week. When he had gotten out earlier, he had been genuinely surprised to find that his doors and windows had not been locked from the outside.

He took a quick second to figure out his plan, then took off running down the corridor. With a sigh, Han followed suit, though a different path.

Years of practice kept Han's footsteps light and almost silent; good, considering half the castle guards were out looking for him and his foolish younger brother. Using long-ago learned skills, he kept to the shadows and stayed as still as possible when someone came near, even if he was sure he'd been spotted.

Making his way back to his room took a while, since the royal family's rooms were far from the front gates of the castle and it was slow going. But he couldn't go any faster, for fear of being found. Wondering briefly what Currier was doing now – trying not to get caught, finding his parents and blaming Han, ripping up his clothes so he could claim to have been mugged? – Han made his way to the base of the outside wall of his room. Or rather, his suite of rooms, located on the third floor. His bedroom and bathroom windows looked out over a courtyard, where he was now. The walls of it were rough and easy to climb, he had learned years ago. Since he had made his way so effortlessly through the castle defenses and then into his room, he realized he should probably alert his parents and the guards. The problem, of course, was figuring out how to do that without admitting he'd snuck out to warn his brother.

In the meantime, though, Han unlocked the bathroom door and slid out of the pilot's garb he had been wearing, quickly changing into his pajamas. One of the family's pilots had given him the clothes when he started taking lessons, so luckily there was nothing suspicious about the lizard-hide jacket, undershirt, and dark blue pants. They helped him blend into the shadows and kept him from being recognizable by a quick glance, especially when he had the cap on over his short brown hair. Plus, they didn't _swish, swish_ the way his formalwear did.

Slipping between the blankets on his bed, Han was taken by surprise when his bedroom door opened. He just had enough time to roll onto his side and close his eyes, adopting a sleeping pose, before the light flicked on and his father exclaimed, "Han!" in one of his angriest tones.

Always a light sleeper, Han knew the best reaction was to bolt upright and grab his blaster from under his pillow. Pointing it at his father, he blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust to the light before dropping the DL-44 on his comforter. "Oh, sorry. Hello Father," he muttered, rubbing his eyes as if they stung from the sudden light. It wasn't hard to pretend to be tired, since he actually was – but from lack of sleep, not because he'd been sleeping. He'd been evading guards and trying to find his brother – even venturing out into the city for an hour or two – since two hours after dark.

"Where have you been?" Jonash interrogated, approaching his older son.

"Here," Han replied, confusion coloring his voice. Running a hand through his hair, he hoped he could bluff his way through this. With most people, he could. With his father, not so much. "Why, where did you think I was?"

The glare his father gave him told that he wasn't going to believe a word of his son's cover story. "At a party," he answered, tossing a datapad on the bed. Displayed on the screen was a single holo. Front and center, wearing the clothes he'd had on when Han last saw him, was Prince Currier Solo, with a drink in his hand and a girl on his hip. Obviously, his parents thought Han had been out with him, too.

_Aw kriff,_ Solo thought, grabbing the datapad. "Okay, so yeah I went out to a party tonight. Currier didn't really want to go, but I made him come with me. It's not his fault." Lying through his teeth, of course, he didn't put much effort into the story.

"He certainly looks like he wanted to go."

_Cur, you so owe me._ "Well yeah, once he had a few drinks in him. What's my punishment?" He had learned the hard way that going along with whatever his parents said tended to be easier and usually got him in less trouble – even if said trouble had been started by Currier. Today, though, no such luck.

"You're going to Alderaan for a week," was the answer. Han's mouth dropped open. He hadn't been to Alderaan in ages, and while normally he might enjoy such a trip, he had a huge test coming up and he wanted to study for it – a fact Jonash very well knew. "You don't get to fly yourself, either," Jonash added, and the teenager's face clearly said 'what the kriff?' "Bail and Breha Organa are going on a trip for their anniversary, and Princess Leia needs a babysitter."

"That chubby little baby we met years ago? Doesn't she have a nursemaid?" Han had not been to Alderaan since he was ten; after the rise of the Empire, things had been different. He had, luckily, been able to keep in touch with Bail via the HoloNet and the infrequent comm calls, but they hadn't been face to face in years; and apparently they still wouldn't be.

"She isn't a little baby anymore, Han," his father said. "She's seven, and I think you'll like her." The King and Queen of Corellia had gone to Alderaan several times over the past seven years and knew the princess had an overly tomboyish personality. The 'punishment' was mostly a mind game – making Han think he was going to hate this assignment. And not letting him fly.

With an aggravated sigh, Han collapsed back onto the bed and pulled a pillow over his face. Babysitting. Could it get any worse? _I'm going to kill that little brat. I should make him come too._

Before his father left, Han remembered to tell him, voice muffled by the pillow, "By the way, getting into this castle is way too easy. You should increase the security."

* * *

><p>Try as he might, Han couldn't convince his parents to make Currier join him on Alderaan. Apparently, he was going to be punished at home on Corellia, for not stopping his brother. <em>Figures.<em> That basically meant he wouldn't be punished.

Why Han really needed to be there, he wasn't sure, because as he had suspected, Leia's nursemaid was around. But that was lucky for him, since it allowed him to study. First and foremost was his modern history. _At the end of the Clone Wars, then-Chancellor Palpatine called for an extraordinary session of the Galactic Senate, where he announced that the Galactic Republic was to be reformed into the first Galactic Empire. Chancellor Palpatine was of course immediately appointed Emperor, a wise decision. We could ask for no better leader._

_What a load of bantha crap._

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>Meals were really the only time Han had to interact with anyone, and that was assuming he didn't have the meals brought to him. It was only on the second night that he bothered to leave his room, random and uninteresting facts about how amazing the Empire was spilling out his ears.<p>

He was already halfway through his nerf – cooked by Iorek, who had apparently become quite talented – when Leia looked straight at him for the first time. She had been casting him furtive glances the whole meal, but only now spoke.

"Are you a pilot?" she asked, sitting up as straight as a Princess should. Her white shirt, and that of her friend Winter next to her, was smeared with mud and dirt, which her nursemaid had already explained was because they had run away and they didn't have time to clean up before dinner. Knowing that the Organas wouldn't be around, she had taken a gamble and hoped Han didn't mind. He didn't.

Giving her a long, appraising look, Han had his fork halfway to his mouth when she asked the unexpected question. Slowly chewing the tender meat, he finally answered with a simple, "Yes," before taking a sip of water.

The seven-year-old cocked her head to the side and asked, "Could you teach me?"

That earned a raised eyebrow and another long look. "I could, but you're seven, and tiny. Call me a in a few years."

The rest of dinner that night was silent, which suited Han fine, but he was pretty sure the Princess was mad at him. Whatever, she was seven. Besides, seven-year-old Princess eventually get what they want, so someone would teach her. Until her parents decide to teach her more… Princess-y stuff, anyway.

"Night," he muttered to the others as he downed the last of his water. Heading back up to the room he was staying in, he sighed. It was going to be a long and lonely week with only a pair of kids, a nursemaid, and a pocketful of datachips for company.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until his last day on Alderaan that the little girl spoke up again, in anything more than meaningless small talk shared over a meal. In fact, Han had his backpack over his shoulder and was wearing his pilot's clothes, a foot on the ramp to get on the ship and take off. His parents had commed that morning and said he was allowed to fly the ship back to Corellia himself, and although he'd been planning on talking the pilot into letting him fly anyway, doing it with permission was easier.<p>

"Will you come back soon, Prince Han?" Leia asked, tugging at the hem of his jacket. Winter stood uncertainly in the background, having already said a polite good-bye to him a few moments previously. Leia had been silent through it, and he had expected her to stay that way until after he had left. No such luck, apparently.

Looking down at those big chocolate-brown eyes and the dark hair that framed her innocent face, Han realized that his new "friend" – right, he barely knew anything about her – was very good at getting what she wanted. After all, it was hard to say no to that face. Combine that with the fact that he knew he would end up back on Alderaan at some point, he gave her a nod and said, "Sometime. I'm not so sure about the 'soon' part, though."

Not giving him time to walk up the ramp, Leia threw her arms around Han's waist and pressed her face into his hip. "I'll miss you," she muttered into the dark fabric.

Awkwardly patting her back, Han looked over at Leia's nursemaid for help. With a shrug, the girl took Leia lightly by the shoulders and dragged her backward, away from the Prince; it took a little more work than either had anticipated since Leia had hooked her fingers into the belt of his blaster holster. "Bye, Prince Han!" she called out.

Carefully saving his confused look until he had turned away, Han lifted a hand in a wave and stomped up the ramp onto his ship. Even when they were seven, girls were strange.


	3. Swoop Pilots Get Too Many Girls

**I'd like to take a moment to direct your attention to leapylion3's _Flying High_, a companion piece to _Destiny_. My version has Darth Vader. _Flying High_ has Anakin Skywalker. Each follows Prince Han Solo of Corellia and Leia Organa/Skywalker-Amidala. (Imagine if the two of _those_ were combined. Some name that would be.) It's a very good story, I encourage you to read it.**

_**Destiny Will Be the Death of Me**_

Leaning against his swoop, Prince Han Solo of Corellia looked out at his competition, scattered across the track. Race time wasn't for another hour and a half, but preparations had been going on all morning. Today's race was at the Agrilat Swamp Circuit, and Han was in third place overall. The races had been going on for about a week now, at tracks all over Corellia, but this was the last and Han was desperate to win it. Of course, looking at him, no one could see that. He had the same expression going into a race whether he was in third or dead last.

Today was also different because he had spotted a couple of noteworthy spectators, among them Bail Organa and his daughter Leia. Breha had died shortly after Han's last visit to their planet, and he had been unable to return for the funeral, having been violently ill.

That had been years ago, when he was seventeen. Now twenty-four, he wondered what the two white-clad Alderaanians were doing at his swoop race on Corellia. "Currier, watch the swoop," he said to his brother, eyes fixed on the Princess and her father as he walked away. Behind him, Currier mumbled something about expectations, but did as he was asked.

Meandering through the crowd in the general direction of the Organas, Han stopped several times to talk to a friend, racing teammate, or even, once, to wish a rival good luck.

When the young prince finally reached them, Bail Organa dipped his head in a slight bow, accompanied by a wide grin. Returning the action, Han also nodded towards the Princess. The Solo and Organa families weren't very formal with each other. "Hello, Bail. Leia. What are you two doing here?"

"We came to watch you!" Bail told him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Your parents invited us." The two princes had spent a lot of time together when Han was younger, during the Clone Wars. Bail was like an uncle to Han. Unfortunately, since the rise of the Empire, they had seen each other a grand total of… twice. This being the second time. It had been fourteen years since they'd seen each other last, when the Corellian Royal Family went to meet Leia for the first time.

Leia looked up at Han with a look he could best describe as admiration or maybe awe. "Hey sweetheart, what are you looking at?" he teased, and she glanced away, a slight red tinge on her cheeks. Han grinned, a wide, toothy smile, and turned back to Bail. "Thanks for coming. It's been much too long."

"It's weird to see you all grown up," Bail agreed. "Until now I kept picturing you as the pouty ten-year-old who complained about Leia's crying." At this, the young teenager looked up in confusion.

"When I was ten and met you for the first time, you were only a few weeks old, and you cried a lot," Han told her, answering her unspoken question. "I didn't like you much." He flashed her his trademark lopsided grin, the one that made Corellian girls swoon. Prince Han was a very popular figure among the young adults on his planet – and many others.

Bail laughed at the bright red blush creeping steadily up Leia's face, to the point where she turned and walked off. The pair watched her retreating back, but as soon as she was out of earshot, Bail spun back to the young racer and asked, "So how are things with Kass?"

The casual mention of Han's steady girlfriend surprised him, but he quickly came to the realization that either Bail had talked to his parents, or kept up with Corellian gossip about the Royal Family. A lot of people in the Core Worlds did, and Bail probably wasn't an exception, if only because it was often easier than staying in constant contact with the Solos.

"Oh, we're fine," Han replied. And they were. In fact, they'd been going out for almost a year now, and Han was the only reason they weren't already married – he refused to marry her solely because his parents wanted him to. Instead, he said, he would date her, but there was no way he was proposing until _he_ was damn well ready.

Grinning, Bail replied, "Fine but not getting married." Han had talked to him about it shortly after he'd been told, about three months ago, about their parents' plans. Unfortunately for the prince, Kass was on the adults' side.

"Right," Han replied, no longer smiling. "I'm getting married on my terms, not theirs. And yeah if both of my parents and my brother suddenly dropped dead I might do something about it, but hey, I'm not concerned about any of them dying anytime soon."

Leia tried to sneak back silently and eavesdrop, but Han saw and told the two of them, "Well, I have to get back down to the track. Pre-race checks and whatnot. I'll see you after the race."

A couple of 'good luck's were hollered after him as he jogged back to his swoop. Currier was sitting in the dirt next to the small vehicle with an old fashioned flimsy-paged book, and Han hopped up onto the seat to run a diagnostic check. Swoop racing was pretty much the one thing Han did that Currier didn't.

"Whatcha readin'?"

"A story that has characters with better grammar than you do."

"There's a shocker," Han replied, taking a swig of water from his canteen. Actually, he generally had impeccable grammar, but when he spent several weeks around racing teams, it was easy to slip.

He sighed; there was still a little less than an hour 'til race time, the swoop was running smoothly, and he knew this particular course by heart. _Should've stayed and talked to the Organas longer, I guess._

* * *

><p>They had reached the relatively dry ending of the race, and were heading into Tursturin Turn, the second-to-last turn of the circuit, on the last lap. Ahead of Han, crouched low to cut down wind resistance, was a human male who had been one step behind the prince all week. At this stage of the race, Han knew, he needed to beat every racer on the track to have any chance of moving up in the standings, let alone winning the entire Corellian Swoop Racing Championship. This guy was no exception.<p>

Han cut as close to the inside of the turn as he could, nearly skidding into a huge crystalline plant as he did so. He was gaining on the other guy now, inching closer and closer every second as they headed into the final turn. _Should I?_

The answer was probably no, but he did it anyway. Han yanked hard to pull his swoop around between the other racer and the inside of the turn, and the front of his swoop hit the back of the other… and caught. Swearing, Han realized that if they crossed the finish line like this, the other racer would win. There were only ways he could possibly separate them in the middle of the race, and only one that made sense. But going full speed wasn't exactly a smart choice in these circumstances. Even if he didn't damage his swoop, which he was almost guaranteed to do, he had to slow down enough to make the turn at Oblivyn Gate, the first turn of the track. That would be hard enough without a damaged swoop.

It would be a bit ironic, though, wouldn't it? To win the race and then die on his victory lap because he'd damaged his swoop going for the win?

All this flashed through his mind in less than half a second, and he was already urging his swoop faster. He could feel it vibrating under him as it struggled against the increase in speed and the obstacle of the other swoop. But Han had worked on his bike specially – legal racing modifications – and the speed won out. Swoop still shaking, he felt the vehicle jerk forward as it disengaged and he shot past the other racer, just in time to cross the finish line in first place.

In other circumstances, Han may have thrown his hands up in victory, letting some emotion other than confidence show now that he'd won. But first he had to slow the kriff down.

Oblivyn Gate was coming up a lot faster than usual, and Han eased back on the accelerator. He couldn't exactly brake… since he'd removed the brakes. They added weight he didn't need. Of course, right now they'd be nice to have.

The first turn was definitely a little harder than usual, but he made it safely… relatively speaking. He did add another slice on his right arm from a crystal he got a little too close to.

By the fifth turn he was just below racing speed, and crossed the finish line again with no real problems. Luckily for him, officials were on the track at all times after the winner crossed the line so that during the cool-down lap, no one could try to take out another racer in revenge for something that happened during the race. Judging by the looks that other guy was shooting him, those officials may have saved his life.

Looking up at the scoreboard as he finished the race, Han saw his name jump from third… up to first. He'd done it, he'd actually won the Corellian Swoop Racing Championship for the fourth year in a row! That was a new record.

The swoop hadn't quite slowed to a stop when Han jumped off, ducking into a somersault. He came up on one knee with his hands in the air over his helmeted head, whooping. His teammates, friends and family surrounded him, but he did notice that little Leia Organa hung back. Remembering the hug she'd given him years ago on Alderaan, he stood and grabbed her sides, swinging her in circles in the air. Damn, she was small, even for a fourteen-year-old girl.

Laughing, Leia looked a little embarrassed as he set her down on her feet again, but she did give him a quick hug and a 'congratulations' before retreating to stand on the outskirts of the small group. Han noticed that the embarrassment was hidden quickly.

The rest of the day was a rush of euphoria, paparazzi, and booze. The ecstasy was aided greatly by the considerable number of credits deposited in Han Solo's bank account – enough that he could go buy any ship in the galaxy, without his parents' help. Okay, so maybe not a Star Destroyer, but still. And buying a starship was exactly his intention.

It was a little after midnight and Han was in the garage with his swoop. It didn't need any _major_ repairs – he was lucky there – but his body needed some work. His arms and legs were crisscrossed with half-healed wounds, and fresh, oozing cuts from his races. Luckily, bacta patches like the ones he was applying now kept scars from forming most of the time. He did have one nice slash across his chin from a race two years previously that he'd 'accidently' neglected, letting a rough scar form. The only problem had been that the chin cup on his helmet had rubbed against it and kept the wound open constantly, but it truly was uncomfortable to wear a bacta patch with the helmet.

Finishing with the bacta, Han pulled his sleeves down and stood, stretching and yawning. It had been a long day, and as much as he wanted to go back to the party, what he really wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep, if only because it hurt to walk. Besides, pretty soon he'd be going back to the Academy, and he'd need to rest up for that.

Military service was important to Corellians, and the Royal Family was no different. Han had entered the Academy a little later than he would have liked because his parents feared he was too reckless, but he was still a year ahead of his brother Currier. Not to mention he'd already earned the first-class Corellian bloodstripe, and he still had another few months before he was commissioned in the Corellian Navy. That was really damn impressive, and he knew it. He also liked to point it out a lot.

No one ever accused Han Solo of being humble.

Touching the red piping absentmindedly, Han began to wander off and head back to the party when he heard a voice behind him. "Hey, you aren't leaving me down here alone, are you?"

Han's heels came together smoothly as he halted with military precision and executed a perfect about-face, peering into the darkness of the garage. At the far side, in the shadows, stood a girl almost as tall as Han himself, with light hair that fell to her shoulders and lively green eyes. "Kass," he breathed, fighting his way through the junk on the floor to throw his arms around her. "How did you get back so soon? You were supposed to be gone for another week," he mumbled into her hair. Without waiting for a response, he kissed her.

"I convinced my parents that I needed practice piloting more than I needed to hear speeches about how amazing the Empire is," Kass replied when she finally got the chance. Han nodded in mock serious agreement; he'd seen her fly many times. She was a descendant of the House of Cadriaan, from the Tapani Sector, who was living on Corellia for schooling – mostly in piloting – and because her parents wanted to marry her off to Han.

"Oww," he complained, only half joking, as she slapping him lightly on the arm. "Now, Kass," he continued, his tone admonishing. "Were you watching me that whole time?" At one point, he'd had to remove his pants to treat a cut that went from almost hip to knee.

Seeing her grin, he finished with a dead serious expression on his face, his hands finding their way up under her dress. "Well, you might deserve a _special_ punishment for that."

His advances were halted by a loud _crash_ from across the room. Shocked, Han turned, figuring it was a couple of people from the party upstairs looking for some alone time. But that wasn't what he saw.

"Sorry," Leia muttered sheepishly, righting the box of tools she'd knocked over. Casting an apologetic look at Kass, Han picked his way back across the room. Had Currier sent her down to mess with him? That would be just like his brother.

"Leia," the prince muttered scoldingly, "what are you doing down here?"

"I was trying to find you," the girl said matter-of-factly, straightening up and pulling her shoulders back. Han found himself impressed with her ability to transform so quickly from the girl sneaking around the garage to the confident young woman before him now. "I wanted to congratulate you on your victory, and tell you that my father and I are leaving in the early morning. He would like to say goodbye, since we suspect you will not be awake yet when we leave."

Han turned to talk over his shoulder, his gaze never leaving Leia. "Kass, I'm going back upstairs for a bit. You can wait for me in my room." To the Princess, he said, "Lead the way."

At this goodbye, Leia did not throw her arms around him again. In fact, she said a very polite and formal goodbye, and left without a backward glance. Bail and Han watched her go. "Senator in training?" the young Prince asked.

The elder nodded. "Yes. She's getting like that more and more often these days, especially when she's angry or jealous." The look he gave Han left the Corellian with no doubt that Leia had told her father what she'd walked in on. "Sometimes I wish she would just be a kid again, and ask for flying lessons like she used to."

"So is she not a pilot, then?"

"No. Her interest seemed to peak when she was seven, right when you were babysitting" – the look he now gave Han could only be described as knowing – "but she never brought it up again after Breha died."

"I'm so sorry," Han said, remembering that he had never talked to Bail about it. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there –"

Bail put a hand up to cut him off. "It's okay, Han. I understand." The two shared a quick hug, muttered 'goodbye' and each left for his own room with very different intentions for what to do when he got there.


	4. Rebel Sympathizer

**_Destiny Will Be The Death Of Me_**

The dense forest was alive with noise, but the fifty or so soldiers clinging to the bark of the wroshyr trees were silent. Their mission was vital to the Rebellion and even so much as a cough or a sneeze could give them away to their Imperial enemies.

The Solo boys were right about in the middle of the pack. Han had refused to be left behind on this trip, so much so that he had gone off and trained even though his parents said no, until the Rebellion was practically begging for him to be allowed. Years of swoop racing and training at the Academy made him a great candidate for the job.

See, the problem was that the Corellain Navy didn't see a whole lot of action, generally speaking. If anything significant ever happened in the Corellian system, the Empire often intervened. Admittedly Solo had captained a ship in a dogfight against the Empire once or twice, but still, mostly there wasn't a whole lot going on. Tracking smugglers and pirates was pretty much the extent of the work, and Han wanted more. He didn't really care much one way or the other about the rebels or the Empire, but if one gave him something fun to do, hey, why not?

Digging his climbing gloves into the bark, Han wasn't climbing as fast as he'd like. Currier was an adept climber himself, but years of habit made Han check up on his brother several times. Falling from here would mean death – even if you didn't hit the ground. While prepping for the assault on Kashyyyk, the idea had been thrown out of tying several soldiers together so that if one fell, theoretically the others would all hold on and they could get their fallen comrade back on a tree. But problems had arisen from that idea – like the 'theoretically' part.

So it was every man for himself instead. Or woman. Not far from Han was a small seventeen-year-old by the name of Leia Organa. He was watching her, too. If she fell, or Currier, he didn't know how he'd ever be able to face Bail or his parents again.

"Kriff," came a muffled voice over Han's headset. He didn't recognize it, but judging by the increase in scuffling sounds, someone had slipped and was trying to regain a hand- or foothold.

"Do you need help?" came the whispered reply for the man heading the expedition, an older Alderaanian named Carlist Rieekan. When the soldier answered in the negative, Rieekan said, "Maintain radio silence unless it's an emergency. Try to control your swears, boys and girls."

It was a long and tiring climb up to the habitable trees and the Wookiee city. The rebel commandos were already dressed as traders, and several slipped soundlessly into the village. Unfortunately, adding the whole strike force, mostly humans, to a Wookiee village overnight would be much too obvious. Instead, only a group of about fifty was to go into the city during the first week on-planet. These soldiers would gain intel for the rest, who had stayed in the hidden docking bay with the ships, far below. The attack wouldn't be launched until the end of the week, and then only if they thought they had a chance without calling in reinforcements.

The royalty was scheduled to go into the city early the second day, which was fortunate because it meant they only had to spend one night camping on the wide limbs of the wroshyr trees.

Still, it was a miserable night. Fires weren't allowed, so all they could eat was cold rations. Each soldier had been provided with two blankets, but they had to use their bags as pillows because there hadn't been space to pack any. They couldn't really talk, and electronics hadn't been allowed with the exception of weapons, headset comlinks, and minor things either important to the mission or their cover as trader; the former were almost always weapons and the latter didn't actually work.

That left eating and sleeping. At least the long climb made those fairly easy.

Curling up next to his brother, Han was unsurprised to hear someone else approach and set up camp on his other side. He rolled over to look at her. "Hello Princess," he muttered, running a hand through his long hair, just one of many parts of his cover ID as Vykk Draygo.

The teenager jumped. "I didn't realize you were awake," she whispered, sliding under her blankets with a half-finished ration bar clutched in her fist. Han nodded at it.

"Not quite what you're used to from Iorek, huh?" His old friend was one of the best chefs on Alderaan these days, or so he'd heard. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to visit him since he was seventeen.

The smile Leia gave him was much more formal, more impersonal, more confident than he'd seen from her in the past. She would make a great senator someday soon. "No, not quite. You used to be friends with him."

It was a statement, not a question, but Han nodded. "Yeah, we were close. How'd you know that?"

This time, Leia did look a little embarrassed. "He told me some stories about you from when you were little."

That almost worried Han enough to not ask, but as it turned out he didn't have to worry about it. Rieekan, walking past, shushed them with an apologetic look before moving on. Han flashed Leia a lopsided grin in the retreating light of Rieekan's small lantern and ducked back under his blankets to settle in for an uncomfortable sleep.

* * *

><p>"My arms are killing me," Currier muttered as he, his brother, and Princess Leia made their way into the city. The others felt the same way, but instead of agreeing with him, they both put a finger to their lips and shushed him. "Oh, fine, gang up on me."<p>

Han was vaguely surprised to see that there weren't many Imperial stormtroopers patrolling the village. Or city, technically. Growing up on Corellia made this place look pretty village-like, and he wondered how anyone ever thought to call it a 'city' in the first place.

Although Leia was completely lost, Han and Currier both understood Shyriiwook, the main Wookiee language. One of the cooks at their palace was an elderly Wookiee female who had taught it to them long ago. Both were grateful for that fact now, and were in charge of gaining information from the Wookiees themselves. Others soldiers would observe and take notes on the city, the Imperials, and pretty much anything else they didn't need the language for.

Because they spoke the language, the rebellion on Kashyyyk had set them up with a family of four, the head of the family being a male Wookiee by the name of Chewbacca. He wasn't hard to find; everyone in the city seemed to know him, and they found his place quickly. After they introduced themselves, the guests learned to call him Chewie, his wife Malla, son Lumpy, and father Itchy. Though Leia was several years older than the young Lumpy, he had a few inches on her, something Han was quick to point out. Leia was not amused.

Conversations that first night were hard, as Han and Currier had to adjust to the new voices. It was a little bit harder than they'd anticipated, but by the end of dinner, they were pretty sure they had it down.

For the most part, Han did the talking while Currier translated for Leia. They found out that the Imperial patrols had grown lax, sending out increasingly smaller groups – though never a single trooper, because they had an alarming tendency to disappear without a trace – less and less often. When they did go out, they seemed to be talking amongst themselves more than paying the Wookiees any attention. That didn't stop the slave ships from coming in and taking away large groups of Wookiees every month or so, however.

After they retired to their appointed room, Currier turned to his older brother. "What'd you think?"

Han didn't have to think about it. "We go for it. The Imperial base is to the northwest, he said, right?" Currier confirmed with a nod. "Then we get the force up here ASAP and take care of the patrols. The others attack the base, activate a jammer so they can't call for help, clear 'em out, and take as many Wooks as we can with us when we leave."

Currier thought about it. It wasn't a very sophisticated plan, but Han had pretty much just recited their instructions. "Won't the Empire take over Kashyyyk again once the rebels leave?" It was a question he'd had for a while, but hadn't voiced to the rebel leaders.

This time it was Leia who answered. "They won't have to take over _again_. They'll still be in control, just have to set up a new base. Or a better blockade. But we're not actually freeing the _planet_, just some of the Wookiees."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Currier protested. "We're just here to massacre a base and steal slaves?"

"_Free_ slaves," Han corrected. "We _can't_ free the whole planet. Even if the rebels had the firepower to get rid of the Empire, it would be a waste of resources and, frankly, lives, because they don't have the numbers to protect Kashyyyk. The Empire would come back and recapture the planet, killing as many Wookiees as they could without hurting the number of slaves they get from here. The rebellion is too small for something that big… right now."

"I still don't see how –"

"Halle metes chun, petchuck," Han snapped. That shut his brother up real fast.


	5. Two Deaths Are Worse Than One

**_Destiny Will Be The Death Of Me_**

During the week, Han learned more about the Imperial patrols while undercover as a trader. He frequently saw other rebels, but was unable to talk to most of them for appearances' sake. Occasionally he gleaned more information from a friend and threw that into his nightly report to Rieekan, though it all had to be done extremely carefully so as not to arouse suspicion. Still, despite all the limitations, he was enjoying Kashyyyk and the Wookiees.

The only thing Han didn't much like about his mission was being saddled with Princess Leia. It was bad enough that he had to look after his brother, but now he had two kids to look after. And despite her diplomatic training, he sometimes caught her looking at him in a way he didn't really like. Too much admiration. _Should've put that pillow over her face when she was a baby after all,_ he thought jokingly, remembering a day when Leia's crying had been particularly loud.

On the morning of the assault, Han was up early with anticipation, cleaning both his regular blaster and his rifle. He had completely disassembled both, and the pieces lay out on the kitchen table in front of him. Behind him, Leia looked on in wonder, unsure how he knew which piece went where or even on which blaster – some of them shared almost identical parts that, if swapped, she knew would render the blasters useless. However, she had yet to learn how to tell the differences the way he had.

"Enjoying yourself?" Han asked, causing the watcher to jump. She hadn't realized he knew she was there.

"I was wondering how you knew which parts go to which blaster," she replied coolly, stepping forward and reaching for what appeared to be the scope of the blaster rifle. Han's hand shot out and caught her wrist before she could touch it.

"Practice."

By now, Leia knew better than to annoy Han Solo when he had a blaster in his hand, even if it was in pieces.

Not long after, Currier and the Wookiee family were up, making breakfast and doing their own preparations. Malla and Itchy were to leave just before dusk, under the pretense of taking Lumpy to the city's doctor, who lived in the southeast corner – as far as possible from the Imperial base. Chewie would go with Han and the others, hanging back so it appeared he wasn't actually with them. At nightfall, they would meet up with their assigned group at the southernmost point of the city. Their task was to sweep the city northward and take care of any Imp patrols they came across, before making their way to the base and joining the assault there.

It was a long day of waiting. Han went out on his own for a while, scouting the patrols to see if anything had changed. They certainly didn't seem to be anticipating an attack any time soon, and the other 'traders' hadn't noticed anything different either. It seemed they could proceed as planned.

Dinner that night was tense. Even Lumpy didn't say much, realizing that his father was going into battle against the Imperials that night. And when it was over, they were careful to say goodbye as if Lumpy's visit to the doctor was really the only thing happening that night. One does not say goodbye before a fight.

"Bye tyke," Han said, kneeling to ruffle the hair on Lumpy's head. The little Wookiee wrapped his furry arms around the human and squeezed, making Han cough in surprise. Currier's laughter ringing in his ears, the prince pried himself free and stood to say good-bye to Malla. As he did, Lumpy still clung to his leg. He'd come to quite admire the Corellian, something his parents were very happy about. The young Wookiee needed a good role model.

Five minutes later, the small group of rebels was headed out into the city, weapons and bags strapped on and hidden. The hardest to conceal, Han's rifle, had been split into several pieces. The long barrel was a makeshift splint taped to his left knee, causing him to limp. The other pieces were scattered through his, Currier's, and Leia's bags, along with their comlinks, datapads, and med kits. Chewie's bowcaster was slung over his shoulder, and each human had a blaster strapped to their leg, covered by the long cloaks they wore.

They were to meet with another Corellian a few years older than Leia, a kid by the name of Wedge Antilles. He'd be bringing three other people with him, making for a force of eight people. Not many to sweep a whole city, but another seven would start north and head south on different paths. Luckily, Rwookrrorro wasn't quite the same as, say, Coronet City back on Corellia. It only spanned about a square kilometer, maybe a little bit more.

As they approached their appointed meeting place, Han noticed that there was indeed a younger kid standing there, but he was alone. Slowing down as discreetly as possible wasn't easy, because he was pretty sure the kid was staring right at them. "Turn left," he muttered to the others, heading in the direction of a side 'street.' As they followed his instruction, Han watched the kid out of the corner of his eye, falling to the back of the group

_Kriff. He's not expecting Chewbacca!_ The Wookiee had been inching closer to them the farther they got from the heart of the city.

Han didn't stop, but he gave the discreet hand signal that Wedge had been assigned. Confusion crossed over the kid's face, then he replied with Han's prearranged gesture. "Jenos, wait," the prince said aloud to his brother, turning around and heading back.

"Jagged Terrik?"

"Vykk Draygo?"

The older man grabbed the younger in a hug, exclaiming, "It's been too long!" He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Sorry about the Wookiee. He's here to help."

He let go of his fellow Corellian, who nodded to him. "Thanks for coming," Wedge told him as the others approached. "This is Jenos, right? Damn, kid, you look a lot different."

"Hey, Jag, you've grown."

Of course, Currier had never met Wedge before. None of them had. But since they were Corellian it was a relatively easy cover story, should passerby be interested in the exchange. There wasn't actually anyone within earshot, but it never hurt to be cautious.

"And I'm sure you remember," Han said, putting his hands on Leia's shoulders, "Skye Massa."

As she and Wedge greeted each other with a warm hug, Han thought maybe they lingered a little too long. And not just Wedge, but Leia too. "And this is Chewie," he said loudly, making the two break apart and look up. The Wookiee nodded, not wanting to talk for fear of bringing attention to their group. The city, for once, was surprisingly quiet. Han finished meaningfully, "And we have business to attend to."

"The others are in place," Wedge said, his voice dropping as he backed away from Leia. Han didn't miss the glances he sent Leia, although after almost every one he looked at Han almost… fearfully. It was amusing. _What, does he think we're _together_ or something?_ "They're waiting for my signal. Jenos, you've got this center alley here, Vykk you're down that way" – he gestured off to his left – "then Skye and Chewie."

"Let's go," Han said, urging the others ahead of him. Turning back to his brother, he said, "See you at the rendezvous."

Currier nodded and started meandering up the street, eyes wide for any Imperial patrols. As his brother disappeared, the oldest Corellian spun around and jogged after Leia and Chewie.

"Took you long enough," the Princess muttered as he caught up. Han almost stopped walking in disbelief.

"What? I was saying goodbye to my brother!"

"I thought Han S –"

A hand clamped down over her mouth and Han wrapped his arms around her from behind, restraining her. "Don't you dare say my name, Your Worship," he hissed in her ear, "if you want to get off this planet alive." She struggled against his tight grip, but he didn't let go. "Just by saying that, you put us all in danger. Understand?"

Leia nodded as vigorously as she could given her current predicament, and after a few moments more he let her go. Chewie watched in confusion and even amusement. "I though _Vykk Draygo_ didn't say goodbye before a fight," she finished angrily. "What, are you afraid?"

"Yke hyon fhars oblivyn cnous oblivyn," he replied cockily. She rolled her eyes and stalked off, having no idea what he had just said. Speaking Olys Corellisi was just one of many things he did to annoy her.

"Goodbye!" Han called after her merrily. He and Chewie shared a look before setting off to sweep their assigned search areas.

There had only been a few patrols that Han had come across, all of which he had dispatched quickly. According to Currier, he hadn't seen any at all, and Leia had only seen one, but one of the south-sweeping rebels had taken care of it before she had to. "Chewie is right, they're very comfortable here. Four small patrols in almost half a city."

Han shrugged, pulling the scope of his rifle out of a pocket on his bag. The others handed over their pieces, and he quickly assembled most of it, but he still needed a piece or two from Chewbacca. No, three. To the west, they could hear the sounds of blaster fire and, once or twice, an explosion. "Okay, you guys head in," he said to the others as Chewie approached, his muted growls informing them that he had only seen two patrols and dispatched each with ease. He handed over the pieces to Han's rifle.

Currier, Leia and Chewbacca headed towards the Imperial base at a steady jog. Han wasn't far behind, but shortly after the base was in sight he clambered up a tree instead of following them in. At least trees were easy to find around here, but this one had been specially scouted during the week, and he'd even carved 'V+R' – Vykk and the Rebels – into the bark so he'd know for sure which tree.

At the Academy, Han had been trained as two things – a fighter pilot and a sniper. Both had come in useful on this trip, first evading the Imperial blockade, and now, balanced in the branches and shooting down Imperial Stormtroopers – especially the ones taking shots at his brother and friends.

Below, the Imperial base – or what remained of it – was a twisted mess of durasteel and wood. Once heavily fortified, the rebel attack had demolished the roof and front wall, leaving the lobby exposed. Overturned desks and fallen chunks of building materials turned the ground into a brown and white maze. Stormtroopers jumped up and ducked down again quickly, but they were predictable and easy to pick off. Rebels advanced into the maze in as random a pattern as possible, juking and jinking like the fighter pilots who got them there. Several went down, but it seemed they were doing very well compared to the surprised Imps.

Han's particular perch gave him a great view of the battle raging below, but it made him feel very separated, like he wasn't actually a part of it all. For that reason, it didn't feel real when he saw a red blaster bolt strike Currier in the chest, or when he saw his younger brother drop sluggishly to the ground.

He watched as Leia ducked down behind the fallen wall and shook Currier's shoulder, but the boy didn't respond. Curled up on his side, he looked like a boy resisting his mother's wake-up call. Numb, Han shot the offending trooper and slid forward, shouldering his weapon as he watched the white-armored being drop lifelessly to the ground. The fastest way to get down was simply to jump, although it was too far to be safe. Still, Han scrambled down a couple branches, hung by his hands as low as he could, and dropped.

His right ankle gave under him, collapsing with a loud _snap_, but Han ignored it and took off, half running, half hobbling, for the spot where his brother's body lay. His DL-44 blaster in his hand, he shot anything white that got in his way, and kicked any moaning Stormtroopers he passed. If his ankle should hurt, he didn't know it.

There was a surreal feeling to the whole thing as Han went into a headlong dive, landing hard next to Leia and his brother. "Currier," he called, shaking his brother's shoulder hard. "Currier!" Almost too afraid to feel for a pulse, Han rolled his brother onto his back. The boy's eyes were open wide, a look of shock frozen on his face. It was creepy; it was like looking in a mirror. _Will I look like that when I?..._ "Currier!" No pulse, no breath.

It took several moments for Han to notice the small, soft hand on his bicep. "Han, he's gone. There's nothing you can do for him." The gentle voice sounded far away, and all it got in response was a guttural growl as Han stood up, peering over the dilapidated wall and scanning the room.

In the far corner of what used to be a lobby, Chewbacca was being dragged into a back hallway, surrounded by Imperial troops. _They're not getting a friend, too._


	6. Chewbacca's Rescue

**It was brought to my attention earlier that for some reason chapter 14 was in chapter 6's spot. I'm not sure how or why that happened, and I apologize for the confusion.  
><strong>

_**Destiny Will Be The Death Of Me**_

The fighting had stopped.

Bodies, rebels and stormtroopers alike, lay across the destroyed lobby like a giant's discarded toys. Moans and cries of pain filled the air, and medics rushed to their charges, hoping they weren't too late.

There was very little movement, except for the troopers surrounding the Wookiee Chewbacca, pushing and shoving him through a doorway. Many of the rebels lay unable to take a shot at them, others feared hitting the Wookiee. Han Solo had no such fear.

Calmly, Han raised his blaster, staring down the barrel at the stormtroopers surrounding Chewbacca. The Wookiee's hands had been tied behind his back. _How the heck did they get him?_

Didn't matter, he could figure that out later. Dimly aware of a hand pulling at his pant leg, Han squeezed the trigger, firing off shot after shot. Three of the seven troopers went down before the group realized what was happening and returned fire. Ducking, Han had no choice but to wait until they left the lobby before he could go after them.

There had been rebels deeper in the building, of course, to flush the Imps out front for the main force to pick off. As he silently followed the troopers down a white-washed hallway, he wondered where those rebels were now. Had they gotten everyone? Or was it his turn to be ambushed?

The group was making their way to the hangar. _They can't take him away from me, too._

"Chewie!" Han hollered as his new friend stepped into the sun. The giant Wookiee reacted exactly as Han had expected, stopping and lifting his arms above his head as he uttered a wordless roar. The troopers turned and started shooting, but Han's first blaster bolt went for Chewie. More specifically, the rope holding Chewie's hands.

What was left of the ropes fell to the floor between Chewie's feet. He'd have some nasty scorch marks, but that was the least of their problems. Free now, the Wookiee grabbed one stormtrooper by the arm and threw him off the edge of the platform, far out into the trees. The man's scream echoed for some time.

Han was returning fire now, and took out another trooper before he had to duck into a doorway to avoid getting hit. One of the two remaining Imps had thought to turn his blaster on Chewie, but it was his last thought, as the Wookiee tore the man's head clean off his shoulders. Han took out the last guy and raced for the end of the hallway.

"Chewie, are you okay?" he asked, putting a hand on each of the Wookiee's arms and looking up into his clear blue eyes. Chewie howled an affirmative and Han let out a deep breath. "Well come on then, we better be getting back to see what we can do to help."

As they walked back through the base, Han realized how long a walk he'd just run. It had seemed like he was going from the lobby to the hangar in three steps; really it had been three levels up and at the opposite end of the large base. On their long trip back to the lobby, the pair came across several injured stormies and even more dead ones, but none fit to attack. Kicking their blaster rifles away, Han and Chewie either put them out of their misery – several begged, so they wouldn't be called out as traitors by the Empire – or tied them up and dragged a line of them out to the rebels, so General Rieekan could decide their fate.

After dropping off their captives, the two companions found Leia kneeling next to an oddly-shaped bundle of white. Looking around they discovered that in their absence, the bodies of the deceased had been arranged in neat lines and covered in white sheets. Luckily they didn't have to climb all the way back down to the hidden hangar with them, nor leave them behind for the Wookiees to deal with; their pilots were bringing the rebel ships up to the Imp's hangar instead. Many of the older ships were traded out for the sleek Imperial vessels, but Han refused to leave his own personal craft behind.

Chewbacca explored the ship for a while, asking countless questions, before acknowledging that it was a nice little Corellian freighter. It was when he wanted to know what it was called that Han was silent. After a while, he asked again.

"_Currier's Dream_," Han whispered. His throat was tight and he couldn't get out anything else. Quickly, he turned and limped off in the direction of his cabin.

The others watched him go, and Leia had to fight down the urge to go comfort him. It wasn't easy to lose family, she knew.

Han may have gone towards his bunk, but he wasn't in _his_ room; he was in Currier's. The room was decorated in Cur's favorite colors, turquoise and blue. For the last year, he and his brother had practically lived on the ship, preferring the, relatively speaking, simple and _modern_ furnishings over the four-posters and heavy 'wooden' double doors of the castle.

One day fairly soon, this ship was supposed to become Currier's. It was the young man's dream ship, but he wasn't a swoop racer like his brother and didn't have the funds to buy his own. He could've asked their parents, of course, and in fact he did have a ship, but it wasn't _this_ ship. This heavily armed freighter had once been the most attractive thing in the world to the two boys. Now Han wanted nothing to do with it.

Despite that, he didn't leave his brother's room the entire trip back to Corellia. Even when the ship stopped on Dantooine to drop off the rebel supplies still in their holds, Han stayed put. Normally he wouldn't even think of letting someone else pilot his ship, now he couldn't care less. Leia had to bring his meals to the room for him, but he rarely ate them. Once, when she walked in, he was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. There was no reaction, no sign that he knew she was there. It was this way every time she walked in.

"Han."

Nothing. With a sigh, Leia set the tray of soup down on the bedside table and sat next to the silent prince. _He may as well be lying next to Currier right now._ He didn't react when she put a hand on his forehead, or when she lifted him into a sitting position, grunting the feel of the muscles in his arms and back. "Can't you help me out just a little bit?"

Silently, he slid backwards on the bed until he was sitting against the wall. His gaze was still straight forward, now directed at the far wall. Leia sighed again.

"Well if that's the best I'm going to get," she muttered, raising a spoonful of soup to his lips. When he didn't turn away or protest, she pressed the edge of the spoon to his lips. Surprisingly, he opened his mouth a little bit.

_Well, it's better than before – at least now he's eating._

She coaxed about half the bowl into him before he lay down again. "Han, you've barely eaten in three days. Can't you at least finish a bowl of soup?" Shake of the head. "How about some bread?" Shake. "Water?" Shake. "Are you sure, Han?" Nod. "Don't make me force feed you." Nothing.

Leia gave an aggravated sigh and left. What was she supposed to do with him?

"_Currier's Dream_ requesting permission to land."

"_Currier's Dream_, please transmit your clearance code."

"Transmitting."

The comm controller flicked the comm off for a moment, turning to the officer over her shoulder. "The code checks out as Prince Han's private code, and it sounds like him, but he called the ship _Currier's Dream_. When did he change the ship's name, and why after his brother?"

"No idea," was the reply. "Let him in, though, he's probably wondering why you're not responding."

"You're all clear, Your Hi –"

"Don't call me that," interrupted the harsh voice from over the comm. It was definitely Han Solo, but he had returned from his vacation very different. However, the comm controller knew it wasn't her place to question him.

Soft music played in Han's room as he lay on his back, tossing a ball up and catching it, over and over again. There were no lyrics, but the notes themselves seemed to sing of love and tenderness, and both happiness and sadness at once. It wasn't something Han normally noticed, but he'd picked this song specially. It was a love song, but it Currier's favorite song and had played the previous day at his younger brother's cremation.

A tear leaked from the corner of his eye, sliding down the side of his face and into his hair. Soon, he'd have a synthetic diamond made up of his brother's ashes, as per Corellian tradition. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He had more than enough to remember Currier by, and wasn't sure he wanted his brother's _remains_ too. It was just… too much. He squeezed his eyes shut.

The ball bounced off his fingers and fell to the floor, bouncing and rolling across the room until it came to rest near the far wall.

A slight noise made Han open his eyes. He wasn't sure just how much time had passed since he'd dropped the ball, but he sat up slowly. There, just inside the door, stood a young woman he was very familiar with. It hurt to see her, though. "Hey Kass," he muttered, dropping and turning his attention back to the ceiling. He wasn't even embarrassed by the stuffed bantha and tauntaun that sat on his spare pillow, well within arm's reach. Either he was too numb to care, or... he just didn't care anymore anyway. _Why is she only just coming to see me?_ Kass hadn't even gone to the funeral, with no explanation as to why not.

"Hey," his fiancée said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing his hair out of his face. "Are you doing okay?"

Unfortunately, she couldn't have asked a worse question. It wasn't her fault; most people would have asked the same. But a select few would have worded the same thing a little differently, so it wasn't a yes or no question. Those were the few Han could tolerate right now.

"Of course I ain't doin' okay!" Han shouted, going from lying flat on his back to standing over her in what seemed an inhuman transition time. "I saw my own brother get shot down in fron'a me!"

"Han, Han I'm sorry!" Kass was clearly uncomfortable; Han never got angry with her. "I didn't mean –"

"Yeah, well I mean this: get outta here. I don' wanna see you around again." Maybe if she'd at least gone to Currier's cremation things would've worked out. But Han had been wondering if she was right for him. She wasn't.

"Han –"

"Go!"

Kass left quickly, trying to hold back tears for the Han she used to know. Currier wasn't the only one lost on Kashyyyk.


	7. Damn Those Color Coordinating Princes

_**Destiny Will Be The Death Of Me**_

The sun shone brightly high in the clear Corellian sky, reflecting off the tame waves of the lake below. There was no wind to stifle the heat, but that was solved by a sip of one of the many drinks at tables scattered across the yard, or a quick jump in the crystal clear water. Lakefront property was always a plus.

A year ago today, on the Corellian calendar, Prince Currier Solo had been on vacation with his older brother when a bounty hunter jumped them, killing Currier and wounding Han. A Wookiee by the name of Chewbacca saw what was happening and tried to help, but was disabled. Only the forgotten Han's quick thinking and fast reflexes spared the big sentient the same fate as the younger prince, and for it he'd sworn a life debt to the living Solo son.

Very few people knew the true story.

Han lay on his back in the water, neglecting a float, with sunglasses over his closed eyes. He knew his brother, and Currier would love the idea that they were having a huge party to commemorate the anniversary. All his friends were there, and all of Han's friends – including Chewbacca – and, of course, the Alderaanian Prince Bail Organa and his daughter Princess Leia.

"Han, do you want to go tubing?" the latter asked him now, treading water not far from him. Although he was well within shouting distance of shore, he hadn't responded to anyone trying to get his attention. Leia had thought that maybe, just maybe, he would actually talk to her. She knew that he'd pushed a lot of people away since Currier's death, but with her that didn't seem to be the case.

"Nah, you go," he said, staring intently at the back of his eyelids.

"Okay, I'll go…" Han knew he wasn't get off that easy; this was Leia he was talking to. "if you go with me."

Now the prince let his legs drop and treaded water, looking at her from behind the dark lenses. That was a very interesting suggestion. "Sure you can handle me, sweetheart?" he joked, flashing his irresistible lopsided grin. His answer was a face full of water.

Han swam smoothly back to shore, looking up at the man on the waterspeeder. "Hey Bail," he greeted him, holding out a hand as he stood up. He'd tried to be polite, seeing as he was dripping wet, but the other prince dragged him in for a hug and pat on the back.

"How you doing, Han?" he asked softly.

The Corellian shrugged. "I'm okay. Currier'd be thrilled with me, although maybe upset he'd missed the party. Knowin' that helps, though."

Bail nodded understanding, then gestured at the tube tied to the back of the speeder. "Well, get on then. Make your brother jealous of the great time." Han grinned and turned for the tube.

"Ready for a wild ride?" he inquired quietly, approaching the Princess as he fastened his blue black and white lifejacket. His sunglasses landed in the sand a few feet away.

Leia had to wrench her gaze away now that those hazel eyes were uncovered. Combine those eyes with the muscles bulging under his tan skin, the blue swim shorts with the black and white tropical flower design, and the water dripping off his hair and body, and it didn't matter how infuriating he could be at times. She just wished he didn't need that life jacket.

It wasn't until she was lying flat on her stomach on the tube, looking over her shoulder but not really at him, that she could say, "You're ridiculous, you know that? You even matched your life jacket to your swim shorts. No wonder my dad was planning on marrying me to Currier, he wasn't so crazy."

Time seemed to stop. Marry her to Currier? Why hadn't he heard about that? It would've been happening right about now, wouldn't it? She had turned eighteen very recently, he knew. He'd been at the party. Even though Alderaanians came of age at seventeen, and for that matter Corellians did too, the royal family usually married their daughters at eighteen or nineteen. Would she really have married Currier, or was she saying that because she wanted to annoy him?

A large growl broke Han out of his reverie. Chewie put a big paw on his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm fine, pal," he answered, sounding very far away. Until he spoke again, his gaze was riveted on the far shore. "And I think maybe someone else should spot. Someone else who weighs a little less."

Smiling to show he was teasing, Han looked past his friend to see the real spotters, who were sitting on the speeder. One was a friend of Currier's that Han couldn't name. The other was Wedge Antilles.

Han flopped down on his stomach next to the Princess, grabbing the handles of the tube. It was actually only meant for a single rider, but that had never stopped them. As kids, the boys had protested when their parents brought home a tube big enough for two people, because it was way too easy to hold onto. There was no point in going tubing if you didn't fall off once in a while.

"Remember, pull back on the handles 'til we're at a good speed, or we're gonna nosedive, and that kriffin' hurts."

The significant weight difference made the experience very interesting as they both struggled to stay on – Han was practically underwater before they went anywhere, and Leia was too high out of the water and bouncing on every ripple in the water. As they picked up speed, Bail zigzagging to bring them across the wake and back off the other side, Han couldn't have been on for more than a minute before he was dragging in the water and had to let go. Oddly enough, instead of being dunked underwater by the force of the sudden stop, he skimmed several meters on his back before coming to a stop, his lifejacket supporting him easily.

The guys on the speeder whooped as they pulled around to pick him up, and Wedge reached down to splash him in the face. Coughing up water, Han almost missed the tube when it passed by him.

Leia was cracking up, lying in the middle of the tube now. Brushing his long hair back from his face, Han raised an eyebrow at her. "You wanna go in next? Because I can arrange that."

He pulled himself back up on the tube and Leia scootched over out of his way. This time, though, Han leaned into her a little bit, balancing out the weight somewhat as well as pushing her towards the edge.

"Han!" she scolded, crossing her arm over his to grab a handle on his side of the tube. She couldn't help but admire the differences in their arms, hers pale and skinny, his tanned and muscular.

Flashing her a grin, Han gave the boys a thumbs up, and they started up again. He laughed as Leia tried to hold on, but he pushed into her more and more, gradually forcing her off the side of the tube. It was only about another minute or two before they swung around to her side of the wake and she went flying off.

Laughing uproariously, Wedge yelled, "Damn, guys, can't you stay on the kriffing tube?"

Leia, spluttering, hollered back a moment later, "Watch your language, that's my father you're sitting with."

Wedge made a show of standing carefully on the back of the speeder and bowing to Bail as he apologized graciously. In return, Bail placed a hand on Wedge's lifejacketed chest and sent him tumbling backwards off the speeder.

It was Leia's turn to laugh, and she almost couldn't get back up on the tube because of it. Eventually Han, sitting with his legs in the hole in the middle instead of lying across it, lifted Leia up and into the tube in front of him. It wasn't easy and they almost tipped over doing it, but it worked eventually. "Here, we might not fall off this way," he told her loudly as Bail revved the engine.

This way, though, Han had to reach around Leia to grab the handles of the tube. Their life jackets made it a bulky experience, but interesting. And they stayed on much longer.

It wasn't until they had slowed to head back to shore that Bail unexpectedly gunned the engine, and Han, who had loosened his grip slightly, went tumbling over backwards into the water. Shrieking with laughter, Leia jumped in and landed almost on top of him.

Water plastered Han's hair to his face, but Leia's was pinned back and, amazingly, had stayed that way. "Isn't it normally the guy who has to brush hair out of the girl's eyes, not the other way around?" she asked, doing just that.

"Depends. We aren't a cheap holovid," Han responded, grinning. For the first time all day, he wasn't thinking about his brother.

"You should keep your hair this long. It looks good." Since the Kashyyyk mission, he had kept his hair the length Vykk Draygo's was.

They treaded water now – more by habit than necessity, given the lifejackets – about fifty meters from shore. A wicked grin crossed Leia's face as she looked at Han and said, "Race you to shore. Winner's choice of prize."

"You're so on," he responded, kicking away.

"Hey!" Leia hollered after him. "I didn't say you could start yet!"

Han settled for the crawl and cut easily through the water with barely a splash, reaching the raft tethered twenty meters from shore. At this point, he paused to look back over his shoulder – only to see Leia, doing the backstroke, pass him.

"Kriff," he laughed, diving after her.

The beach was deserted; everyone had gone up to get dinner. The race was close, but Leia got to the last foot or so of water and stood up, looking back at Han as he did the same. "I win."

Ignoring her, Han walked up onto the sand. "Nah," he said, bending to pick up his sunglasses, "I win."

"What? I _definitely_ beat you."

The prince shook his head. "The race was 'to shore.' And I'm on the shore; you're still in the water. Now, for a prize…" For a moment he thought about asking for something physical; she was beautiful, after all. And she was royalty. But he shook that off, disgusted with himself. That would be like having sex with his little sister. "Tell me about your father's plans to marry you to Currier."

If there had been other people on the beach he never would have asked it. As it was, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear this. But he couldn't help it.

Leia sat in the sand next to him, as uncomfortable as it was to have sand sticking to her in places that nothing should ever stick to. Han held his knees loosely, hands wrapping around them to just barely interlock as he listened to her tell him, in a soft voice, "Father always joked about marrying me off to 'one of the Solo boys.' I actually stayed up late wondering which of you he meant, because he would never be more specific than that – I don't know, maybe he was actually talking about you. You are the heir to Corellia, after all. But all the teasing stopped when Currier died, so I assumed he was talking about Currier."

"That would make more sense," Han agreed with a nod. The sunglasses gave him a closed-off and uncaring appearance. "Because then he could move to Alderaan and I could take over here on Corellia. I mean, realistically it would make more sense to marry you to someone on Alderaan. But it doesn't really matter now, does it?"

As Leia nodded and stood to get herself some food, Han muttered to himself, "Nothing matters anymore."


	8. Tatooine Is Always Messing Up Our Plans

_**Destiny Will Be The Death Of Me**_

Han sat at the controls of _Currier's Dream_, his copilot Chewbacca next to him. Apparently, after the Kashyyyk mission, Chewie had decided he owed Han a life debt. He'd tried to argue with him – all he'd done was shoot a few extra 'troopers – but apparently, because he'd done what no one else was willing to do and it resulted in Chewbacca _not_ dying, it warranted this debt. At first he'd been thoroughly annoyed with the idea. Now, though, he didn't mind so much.

They'd come out of hyperspace over Tatooine with the intention of landing on the planet, restocking their supplies, and finding one 'Obi-wan Kenobi'.

There was one little problem, though – the fact that Han's sensors indicated an approaching craft. An Imperial Star Destroyer. At the same time, a light over his head indicated a problem with the shields, and another with the engines. "Kriff," he muttered, turning towards the planet. "Figures we'd be good until _now_." He knew the ship had been needing repairs, but it had been working more or less fine and he hadn't really had the time.

"What is it?"

"Strap yourself in sweetheart, we've got a problem," was his answer, as his hands expertly flew across the buckles of his crash webbing, clicking them all into place. While he did that, Chewbacca was finding them a place to land. He gestured loudly at the map he'd called up, then the planet's surface.

Han only spared each only one glance. "Yeah, that looks fine."

The two brought the ship around and into the planet's atmosphere. "Wait, I thought you said –"

"Forget what I said!"

The small freighter hurtled in near free-fall towards the planet's dusty yellow surface. A huge hazy cloud rose up before them, soon filling the entire viewport. "You're going to get us all _killed_!"

"Would you rather be caught by the Empire?" There was no response. "Didn't think so."

The swirling sandstorm engulfed the ship easily, but the electricity in the air caused Han's sensors to pick up things that made no sense. For one thing, there was definitely not a lake under them, and certainly not one that morphed into a Star Destroyer moments later. Although the TIE fighters behind them might have been real.

"We're flying blind," Han commented, trying to bring them level. It was no use; the ship had stopped responding to him.

The small freighter jerked to a sudden stop as it hit the sandy surface of Tatooine, and everything went black.

* * *

><p>The first thing Han was aware of was the heat, shortly followed by a steady, rhythmic thudding that only lasted a few seconds. Shifting slightly, he discovered he was lying on his back – on the floor? – with a mumbling Wookiee on one side and, opening his eyes, he saw Leia on the other. Yes, they were indeed on the floor. Standing over them all was a young boy, probably about Leia's age, with long blond hair and clear blue eyes. If he weren't still so out of it, Han might be concerned about just who this guy was.<p>

"Hi."

The kid seemed taken aback by Han's greeting. "Hi. I'm Luke Skywalker. We, uh, found your shipwreck earlier, after the storm cleared…."

Han struggled into a sitting position, shaking his head to clear it. His hair fell in his eyes. Wait, no, that was Chewie's arm as his copilot gave him a hug. Disentangling himself from the Wookiee, he looked at Luke and asked, "How long have ago did we crash?"

Luke seemed reluctant to answer at first. He kept looking anywhere but at Han – and the Corellian couldn't help but notice that his eyes spent maybe a little more than their fair share of time on Leia. And on Chewie, too, but Han suspected that was for a _very_ different reason. "Well, um, your ship, er… well we aren't sure exactly… because we couldn't access your ships logs. But, um… the st-storm lasted… er, two days, and ended last night."

There was definitely something that Luke was trying to avoid. "Look, kid –"

"Yourshipwasdestroyed." The word's left Luke's mouth so fast Han was amazed he could figure out even a word, let alone the entire thing he'd just said. It did take a moment, though.

This revelation left a gaping hole in Han's chest. _Currier's Dream_, gone just like its namesake. But even aside from just his own selfish reasons, the Rebellion needed that ship. "How will we get to Alderaan? And what happened to the plans?" he muttered to himself. Luke didn't seem to hear, and if he did he probably assumed the pilot was mourning his ship. It wasn't that so much right now, though. There'd be time for that later.

On his right, Leia stirred, rolling onto her side facing him. "Han?" She sounded groggy. "What happened?"

Han noticed something he hadn't before – a large cut across her cheek, from just below the corner of her eye to her mouth. "Do you have any bacta patches?" he asked Luke, his eyes never leaving the wound. Tenderly, he touched the soft skin next to the bloody gash, causing Leia to wince and back away from him.

"Don't touch me!"

"You didn't used to mind, Princess," Han shot back, reaching for a bacta patch. Luke didn't hand it over.

"Why don't you let me?"

The boys' eyes met over Leia, Luke's soft with concern and Han's hard with his protective instinct. He didn't know this kid and certainly didn't want him near Leia any longer than necessary. He held up a hand again for the bacta patch, and this time Luke obliged. Nodding his thanks, he gently took Leia's face in his hands and smoothed the patch over the cut, careful to keep it away from her eye and mouth while still covering the whole wound.

"So where are we, exactly?" Han asked.

"Tatooine."

"No duh," he replied, rolling his eyes and looking up from Leia, who scooted a little ways away from him now that she'd been patched up. "_Where_ on Tatooine are we, _exactly_?"

Luke clearly wasn't happy at Han's tone, and his own voice sounded almost injured. "Well we're on a moisture farm. But the nearest city is Anchorhead, and the nearest spaceport is Mos Eisley."

Han looked down at Leia. He wanted to stand, but realized he couldn't; his leg was splinted. Shifting his gaze down to it, Luke told him, "My uncle said it's fractured, but that splint, if you leave it on long enough, will heal it fine. I tried to take care of your worse injuries first. I was coming back to take care of the other things, like her cut, when you woke up."

Nodding, the prince turned his attention back to the Princess. "Where did you say we were supposed to look for Kenobi?"

"Kenobi?" Luke exclaimed, before Leia could answer. Han shot him an angry look. "You mean Old Ben Kenobi? I know where he lives, I can take you to him!"

His little outburst earned him a strange look from Leia, too, and Chewbacca, who was being quiet, trying not to scare the kid. Luke's gaze shifted to the Wookiee nonetheless as Leia spoke. "_Obi-wan_ Kenobi. But I suppose your 'Old Ben' might be able to help us find him. Maybe they're related. Anyway, I was told to look at the southwestern edge of the Dune Sea." She and Han shared a look – 'Old Ben' _was_ Obi-wan, but this Luke kid didn't need to know that.

"Oh… okay," Luke said hesitantly. He felt a little uncomfortable with their stares. "I can take you there, but, um, not just yet. In the morning." There was an awkward pause. "So… what're your names anyway?"

"You don't know us?" The tone of Han's voice was so shocked that Leia and Chewie had to laugh. He might not _like_ that a great many people in the galaxy recognized him, but he was used to it, and it was weird to meet someone who had no idea who he was – or Leia, for that matter.

When Leia finally got her breath back, she pointed out, "We're way out in the middle of the Outer Rim, not the Core. The people out here don't follow the lives of the royal families the way you're used to."

"R-royal family?" Luke asked, looking from one face to the next and back again. "Are you two siblings?"

Han didn't miss the hope in the kid's voice. He was obviously… _interested_ in Leia, and feared that she and her dashing companion in the vest were an item. The thought of this kid and Leia together would be vaguely amusing if the idea didn't irritate him so much. That was just because he'd grown to think of her like a little sister. That's why he was protective of her.

"No, partners in crime is more accurate. And I mean that literally. We're criminals." Han flashed his best devil-may-care smile, which only got more genuine the longer he watched Luke's reaction. A mix of disappointment and terror.

"Han," Leia scolded, punching his shoulder none too lightly. "Don't scare him."

"What? We _are_ criminals."

She rolled her eyes at him and answered Luke, "No, I'm Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan, and this is Prince Han Solo of Corellia." A scowl marred Han's face as she said his title, but the others didn't notices.

"You- you're really _royalty_?" Luke felt like he should be bowing or something, and the others could see it. If not for his absolute dislike of such things, Han may have demanded it of the boy.

Instead he gave a rough nod. "Don't go shoutin' 'bout it though." It was said more because he didn't want people to know he was a prince than for their safety, although obviously that was a pretty big concern too. "If the Empire ever figures out we're here…" Trailing off, he realized he probably shouldn't have actually mentioned that, but it didn't really matter. No one _wanted_ the Empire to know where they were.

"So… what should I call you then?"

Han stared at him for a moment before raising an eyebrow. "Han."

Leia was a little nicer about it. "You can just call us by our given names. Oh, and this is Chewbacca –"

"Chewie," Han interrupted. "My co-pilot."

"I noticed," Luke responded, clearly a little apprehensive. Han realized that he would've seen Chewie in the copilot's seat when he dragged them out of the wreck. Must've left that part for the uncle he mentioned earlier.

Han struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on his right leg. Not easy, given that his ankle had never been the same after Kashyyyk. And considering he'd been lying on the floor, getting to his feet in the first place was hard, but Chewie and Leia helped him. As he did, though, Chewie howled in pain and Luke looked at him apologetically. "Sorry, I couldn't tell if you were hurt or not. I didn't know how to figure it out. We gave you all some sedatives and painkillers so you wouldn't wake up until we got you back here."

Chewie sat down again, wrapping his arms around his furry torso, and Luke tossed him the med kit. It wasn't going to help him, though; he was moaning about bruised ribs. "Maybe you and… Chewie? You and Chewie should stay here for a while. Ben's place isn't too far, Leia and I can head over in my speeder while you guys heal up here."

Han's expression was one of complete disbelief. "Why would we stay here, exactly?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

"Because you can't walk and Chewie can't move very much. Leia can." It was true; her worst injury seemed to be the cut on her cheek.

Something was beginning to seem suspicious. Having no idea who this kid really was, Han couldn't help but wonder if maybe the crash hadn't been as bad as he said it was. How could the ship be destroyed, and yet none of them had any serious injuries? There was one broken bone among them, and no apparent head injuries. The kid could've taken it to fix up for himself, or sell for scrap metal. Maybe he'd planned on selling them as slaves; or, now that they'd told him who they were, he was going to ransom them.

"Well, I ain't bein' left behind, kid," Han said, limping closer to him and pointing his finger at Luke's nose. The boy went cross-eyed looking at it. "You'll have to take me too."

"My speeder only has two seats," he muttered.

"Not a problem."


	9. The Old Hermit

_**Destiny Will Be The Death Of Me**_

Early the next morning, Han sat next to Luke in the small red landspeeder. Every once in a while he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the looks the kid kept throwing him. He smiled to himself, loving that this simple position had that effect.

It wasn't until they were more than halfway to Old Ben's house that Leia thought to ask, "Luke? What about our droids?"

Han bit back a swear. He hadn't even thought of them, but he knew Leia was attached to the little blue and white R2 unit and that obnoxious gold protocol droid. They had served her and her father in various capacities for her whole life, apparently.

"I'm sorry," Luke said, and the pair of royalty feared for a moment that he was going to tell them there hadn't been any droids in the wreckage. Or maybe he'd say that they were slagged by the TIE fighters that came through after their rescue, along with the rest of the _Currier's Dream_. But he didn't. "I forgot to tell you, I put them in another room, I was going to clean them up after I took care of you guys."

Leia visibly relaxed at this news, sinking into Han's chest. Laughing, he tightened his grip on her for a moment in a quick hug. "Someone is a little fond of those two, huh?"

Her cool gaze prompted him to loosen his arms. She had been forced to sit in his lap for the ride to Ben's house, which, judging by the sour looks he received from time to time, she was none to thrilled about. It didn't help either of them that she had to be careful of his leg. But every once in a while, he noticed, she'd started to sink comfortably against his chest before catching herself and sitting up straight again.

The trip was less than an hour long, but by the time they got there the twin suns of the Tatoo system were high enough in the sky to make Han sweat. It was a good cover though, because he was also embarrassed and this way it didn't look it – Luke and Leia had to help him out of the speeder. As they did, an old man in a brown, hooded robe approached. Han didn't know if she had ever met him or if she'd just seen holos, but he knew they'd found the right place when the princess called out, "Obi-wan!" and ran forward to greet him. In the process, she left Han staggering as he tried to regain his balance with an uninterested farmboy's help.

"Obi-wan?" Luke inquired, forgetting the Corellian prince. Han fell backward, catching himself against the side of the speeder. Luckily, the others were too occupied to notice, and he straightened up.

"Leia, Luke," Obi-wan said, "what a pleasant surprise."

The old man's eyes passed over each of the three, pausing to rest on Han. "Well, I know two of my three visitors," he announced, stepping forward. "Who do I have the pleasure of meeting today?"

Han hobbled forward a few steps to meet him and offer a firm handshake. "Han Solo," he responded.

Given his connection to the Royal Family of Alderaan, it wasn't surprising when Obi-wan replied, "Prince of Corellia, I thought so. I'm so sorry to hear about your brother."

Nodding his thanks, Han simply replied, "He was a good man."

"It was his destiny," Obi-wan replied, "to go down fighting for the greater good."

This comment was less well-received by the prince. "Right," he said sarcastically, "because it was pre-determined he was gonna die on Kashyyyk freein' Wooks." Han didn't believe in fate.

"Well, please, come inside," the old hermit said, ignoring the reply and ushering his guests to the door. As Luke and Leia led the way, Obi-wan graciously helped Han hobble over and find a seat inside.

The group gathered in a corner of Obi-wan's hut that was relatively clutter-free, in front of the stairs up to the raised kitchen. Han sat with his back to the wall, looking out the window behind the dining table. Outside, the hot suns of the Tatoo system beat down mercilessly. Despite the roof over his head, Han was grateful for his sunglasses. He had been surprised to learn that they had not been hurt in the crash. Less surprising but more of a relief was the safety of his blaster, and that Luke had managed to rescue some of their personal effects after he saw the first TIE fighter, but before they came around to start shooting.

"So, you found each other without my help," was Obi-wan's confusing opening statement. He'd seen the looks Luke had been giving the Princess, and the way he'd helped her across the rocks outside while they both left the injured Corellian prince to fend for himself. For that reason he'd decided that he needed to tell them something important now, before anything went too far. Then again, he didn't know how long ago they'd met; for all he knew it already had.

The statement was met with three confused "Huh?"s.

"Luke and Leia - you didn't need my help to find each other." His three guests exchanged looks, but he couldn't help playing with them just a little bit. He'd gone too long alone, and he'd had such fun in the past, teasing their father. "Luke is the reason I'm out here in the Outer Rim, and the reason Bail Organa sent these two" – he gestured to Leia and Han – "here. I'm guessing, from your reaction, you were just told to collect the old Jedi Knight?" Leia nodded. "Well, we have another passenger now. Luke Skywalker, meet Leia Organa, born Leia Skywalker."

Han stared at the old man; Luke and Leia inspected each other until the latter choked out, "Skywalker?"

She and Han both knew she'd been adopted, but they didn't have any idea who her birth parents were. Meanwhile, Luke knew he lived with his father's stepbrother, but didn't actually know much about his father – and as he'd learn in later years, much of what he _had_ been told was false information.

"Yes. Twins separated at birth. Your father was a Jedi Knight; your mother, a senator from Naboo."

"What happened to them?" Leia asked curiously, unconsciously leaning toward Obi-wan. Han wanted to hear this story too, because if events hadn't unfolded the way they did, he never would have met Leia. And without Leia, who would he have turned to after Currier's death?

Obi-wan, however, appeared hesitant to share the story, instead digging around in an old chest. Eventually he pulled out a silver tube around a foot long and looked at it with a slightly pained expression. "Your father was betrayed and murdered by a former apprentice of mine. Darth Vader, no less – the Emperor's enforcer." Not missing Han and Leia's astonished reactions, he nodded gravely. "Yes, much of what Vader learned was from me. But the Emperor corrupted him and turned him to the Dark Side of the Force."

"What?" three very different voices asked simultaneously.

Han and Leia had heard stories of the Force, and Luke had heard the term, but none of them knew what it truly was.

"Your uncle didn't want me to give this to you, Luke," Obi-wan told the young moisture farmer, handing over the tube and ignoring the question for now. "He was afraid you'd follow old Obi-wan on some damn fool idealistic crusade like your father did."

Luke took it first, flipping it over in his hand and examining every inch. Curiously, he passed it over to Leia, who did the same thing. "What is it?" he asked, but his sister's eyes lit up in recognition.

"That's a lightsaber!"

Obi-wan nodded. "Your father's. Not as clumsy or random as a blaster. An elegant weapon, for a more civilized age." Obi-wan sat down again, but Han stood up despite his injured leg.

"Ha, what a joke. The Jedi Knights are a thing of the past for a reason," he commented, limping away. He didn't care what the old man said; this whole thing was a joke. "Clone troopers had blasters; clone troopers took out the Jedi. History tries to hide it, but I was old enough to know what was happening. Especially since my parents were close to Bail Organa, an old friend of yours."

Leia nodded. "As much as I hate to agree with Han, blasters are definitely my weapon of choice." She handed the lightsaber back to Luke, who stood up and activated it, careful to keep the glowing blue blade away from the others as he swung it back and forth.

"That works for me," Obi-wan said with a hint of a laugh. "I only have one lightsaber, aside from my own. And I need that one." He neglected to add that he also had the supplies on hand to make another – or several more – if need be. If Leia didn't want to train as a Jedi, he wouldn't force her to. But Luke was clearly intrigued by the idea of becoming a knight. While for Leia it seemed a step down from her royal position of Princess of Alderaan, for the boy it was several rungs up the ladder from where he stood now, as an adopted moisture farmer from Tatooine.

Han watched impatiently as Obi-wan showed Luke the basics of lightsaber combat and began to explain the Force. "It's a waste of time," he muttered, staring out at the Dune Sea. Louder, he continued, "We need to get to Alderaan, you know. Can't you train him on the way?"

At this the young farmboy looked up. "What? I'm not going to Alderaan with you."

"Yeah?" Han challenged. "And why's that?"

"This is cool," Luke admitted, the saber switching off as he dropped it on a table. "I'd love to be a Jedi, and it's not like I like the Empire, I hate it!" Seeing Han and Leia's looks of surprise, he added, "It's not hard to figure out you're rebels. You're royalty hiding from the Empire and having whispered conversations late at night. But anyway, my uncle needs my help on the farm, I can't abandon him!"

"But you can abandon your twin sister?" Han's voice rose with anger; he didn't know why, but it felt like Luke was betraying his family by _not_ going with them. He stepped closer.

The two boys were nose to nose now, but Han had the advantage of height. Slightly intimidated, Luke backed down slightly. "I'll talk to my uncle when we go back to get your friend and the droids," he muttered.

"Good," was Han's haughty response.

"I do have one question about that," Leia commented as the boys backed off. She looked out the window at the beat up red speeder that was their transport here in the first place. After wondering for a moment how worried Luke's aunt and uncle were that he and the mysterious guests had disappeared, she turned around again. "How are we supposed to get back?"


	10. The Millennium Falcon

_**Destiny Will Be The Death Of Me**_

The cantina was crowded and loud, but it didn't take Obi-wan long to find a pilot while Han and the others waited by the bar. Unconsciously, the prince took on the role of protector of the two twins, hand slipping easily to his blaster when someone got too close. Not many people did.

When the old Jedi returned, he gestured to a booth where a dark-skinned man around Han's age sat with a young man. "Han, I'd like you to come with me. Luke and Leia, try to stay out of trouble."

The three nodded and the Corellian followed the Jedi to the table. "Lando Calrissian," the pilot introduced himself, adding for Han's benefit, "and my co-pilot Jarik. I hear you need to get to Alderaan. Beautiful planet, have you been?"

Two affirmatives, but Han stepped in before Lando could continue. "What's your ship called?" he asked abruptly. He kept up with underground operations like smuggling for the information on ships. He figured someday it might come in handy, and if not, well then it was just fun to know. When Lando answered, he knew it was definitely helpful.

Giving Han a cocky look, Lando leaned forward slightly on the table and said, "The _Millennium Falcon_."

This name was met with an appreciative whistle, but Obi-wan was left behind. Han filled him in. "The ship is notoriously fast, and apparently quite the survivor. Been in hundreds of firefights. She's a CEC – best makers in the galaxy – YT-1300 light freighter, but heavily modified. Then again those ships are made to be. Like I said, best ship makers around." Before anyone could ask how he knew even that small bit of information about the _Falcon_, a question he wouldn't be truthful in answering anyway, he turned back to Lando and said, "Forty thousand, wired to your account."

Three sets of eyes bugged out at him, and from the bar Luke and Leia wondered what he'd said to get that sort of reaction. "FORTY?" Lando exclaimed, astonished. Several bar patrons looked over. "Just for a trip to Alderaan? Deal!"

Obi-wan nudged Han's leg, trying to remind him that they didn't have enough credits for that, and even if they did it would be a huge waste.

But Han was shaking his head with a lopsided smirk. "No no no, Calrissian, you misunderstand me. Forty thousand… for the ship."

Again the reactions of surprise, and, from the Jedi, a frantic whisper that they just didn't have that kind of money.

When he got over the shock, Calrissian shook his head. "I'm not selling her. I'll fly you there myself, but I'm not selling the _Falcon_."

Despite the man's words, Han saw the glint in his eye. It didn't matter what the words were – he was clearly in this for the credits, and the Prince knew just what to do about it. "Alright," he conceded, "A hundred thousand, then."

At this point Obi-wan looked half furious, half ready to faint. He grabbed at Han's arm to drag him away from the table, motioning for the pilot and his copilot to wait, but Han shook him off. Seeing Lando shake his head, the Corellian didn't give him a chance to verbally reject the offer. "_Two_ hundred thousand, and your pick off the CEC shipyards."

He had him, easy. "You'd be stupid not to go for that!" the copilot, Jarik, told Lando. After looking completely dumbfounded for a few moments, Lando nodded and held out his hand. He clearly had no real choice, no matter how much he loved the _Falcon_. You don't ignore that kind of money.

"Deal."

"We don't have that kind of money," Obi-wan protested loudly, glaring at Han.

The prince gave him a cocky grin. "You seem to be forgetting who you're talking to, because you might not have that kind of money, old man, but I certainly do." He waved the Jedi away and turned to discuss account details with Calrissian, and tell him how to get his ship.

"What was that all about?" Leia asked, gesturing at the table. When Obi-wan told them, and Luke looked astonished and confused, she just smiled knowingly. That was so like Han, to buy the ship instead of letting someone else fly it. Especially when she heard the name of it – he had positively _gushed_ about the _Millennium Falcon_ for years.

* * *

><p>"I was prepared to offer double or triple that when I heard he had the <em>Falcon<em> with him," an ecstatic Han told them, shaking his head as they walked to Docking Bay 94. "I mean, I knew a guy named Calrissian owned her, but I didn't know much about him personally. And even when he said his name, damn. I mean, it's a huge kriffin' galaxy, I didn't think I'd get that lucky."

Luke rolled his eyes at his sister; Han hadn't shut up about the ship since he'd left the table, even giving Calrissian a hug worthy of a Wookiee. That had sure shocked the pilot, and his copilot had gotten quite the laugh out of it – until Han gave him the same treatment. Luckily, Chewie himself hadn't been around.

When he entered the hangar, Han stopped dead in his tracks. The others, having listened to his boasting and now staring at the hunk of junk in front of them, assumed he'd been duped. That is, until they heard him whisper in awe, "She's beautiful!" Then they just wondered if he had mental problems.

They'd been given the codes to the freighter, which Han had instantly memorized and sent on to his best friend, so it wasn't surprising when Chewie came bounding down the gangplank roaring his excitement. Han ran up to him, seemingly oblivious to his injured leg, and jumped straight into his furry friend's arms, and the two rejoiced together. Even Leia had rarely seen Han like this; it was almost like he'd just won another swoop race.

"Maybe it's his way of coping with the loss of his ship?" Luke commented, confused as all hells by the Corellian.

Leia shook her head. "No," she said, smiling, "that's just how he is."

* * *

><p>After Lando downed a strong ale to take the edge off selling his pride and joy – how could he? The mercenary in him must have taken over for a moment, just long enough for that prince to get what he wanted – he headed to the docking bay to retrieve his personal effects. He'd just gotten in from a smuggling run and hadn't picked up his new cargo yet, so it was really just his and Jarick's clothes. Solo even handed them credits in addition to the ones he had deposited so they could buy anything they needed, like bags for their clothes. And tickets on public transport so they could go pick out their new ship. Nothing would be quite like the <em>Falcon<em>, though.

The freighter's new owners were obviously enjoying themselves. Han and Chewie, his formidable Wookiee friend, were one second in the cockpit, the next in the galley, soon after in the gun turrets. They were like little kids on a playground, and just as loud, yelling back and forth across the ship to each other. Lando only understood half of it, of course, but they were already talking about new modifications they were going to make. Judging by the amount they'd given him, he didn't doubt that they had the credits to do all of them. Clearly, these two were not smugglers, though they didn't seem far off attitude-wise.

Lando and Jarik went slowly around the ship, gathering up their things. Trying to hide their excitement for the sake of the previous owners, Solo and Chewbacca helped them load all their stuff into their rented landspeeder and gave them still more credits for shipping their bags. As much as it hurt to sell the _Falcon_, this really was turning out to be an amazing deal. _Maybe I should get to know this guy. He's loaded!_

When the last of their possessions were loaded on the speeder, Lando and Jarik made one last sweep of the ship, partially to see if they'd forgotten anything, but mostly to linger. But eventually, the two smugglers had no choice but to climb into their speeder and drive away from the _Millennium Falcon_ forever.

* * *

><p>"I was afraid something had happened to you," Bail Organa admitted, embracing Han and Leia together, "when we couldn't get in touch with <em>Currier's Dream<em>." Han winced slightly at the mention of his former ship, and Bail shot him an apologetic look before continuing. "I can't tell you how relieved I was when you contacted us."

The new arrivals got the impression that he wanted to say more, but at that moment Obi-wan walked down the gangplank of the _Millennium Falcon_. For a moment the Alderaanian seemed stunned, but he quickly got over the shock and practically sprinted to greet his old friend.

The group had traveled from Tatooine fairly comfortably on the "new" ship, despite having four humans, a Wookiee, and two droids. Finding them all places to sleep was interesting given that the _Falcon_ was a smuggling ship designed for two crew members, neither of whom was Wookiee-sized. Han and Leia had ended up sleeping in turns on one bed, while Luke and Obi-wan traded off on the other, both in separate small cabins – although they couldn't help but notice that Lando's former cabin was slightly larger and nicer than his copilot's. Chewbacca made himself at home in one of the holds at the back of the ship, until they could refit the second cabin. Han had offered up the bigger, but Chewie insisted that the Captain's cabin was the Captain's cabin. The Corellian had settled for adding "Wookiee-sized bed" and "Wookie-sized copilot chair" to his to-do list for ship modifications and repairs. Also, "stock galley" – Lando had left them his food, but accounting for Chewie's appetite, the group had three or four times the eaters of the previous owners.

Luke, Chewie, and the droids joined the young royals standing on the lush green lawns of the Palace of Alderaan. "You grew up here?" the young Tatooinian asked. He seemed almost shell-shocked. The high white-washed walls of the palace were a far cry from the sand-covered sunken homestead of the Lars family.

"Your sis'll take you on a tour sometime, kid," Han told him, putting an arm around Leia's shoulders. Luke's face expressed his jealousy; although he was okay now with the fact that Leia was his sister, he'd still never had anyone look at him the way she looked at Han now. _Then again, I don't want to get slapped,_ he thought, as Leia did just that.

"Ow," Han joked, rubbing his stomach and letting go of Leia. "What was that for?"

Leia smirked. "Touching me."

"Aw, sweetheart, you know you like it." Han's arm this time snaked around her waist, pulling her tight against him.

"For a prince, you sure are a scoundrel," Leia replied icily, but she did sink against his side and allow him to lead her into the palace she'd grown up in.

Han shrugged his right shoulder, since his left arm was around her. "You like me _because_ I'm a scoundrel," he told her, leaning down to whisper in her ear. Her hair tickled his nose. "There ain't enough scoundrels in your pampered little life."

Leia looked up at him with those big brown eyes that Han always found himself drawn to. For a second her lips parted slightly and she seemed to stand up a little bit straighter, moving closer to him. Just as Han was about to lower his head towards hers – and if he'd thought about it, he wouldn't, given the proximity of her father, but he was running on feelings and instinct – a huge smile lit up her face and she told him, "You know, _Prince _Han, you're so right!"

Han rocked back on his heels and let go of her, forcing the cocky grin that usually came so easily to him. "I usually am," he shot back.

From the ramp of the _Millennium Falcon_, Bail Organa looked past Chewbacca, Luke Skywalker, and his two droids to watch the prince and princess. As Leia ran off down the stone corridor with Han trying to jog after her, her adoptive father turned to the old Jedi. "I was hoping they'd go for it," he admitted. "Before Prince Currier died, I used to joke about having Leia marry one of the Solos. I meant Han, of course, because his parents and I knew even years ago that neither of them would be happy without the other. Jonash, Jaina and I were just waiting for the two of them to realize it themselves. But when Han's brother died, everything, everyone – especially Han – changed. We knew it would have to wait a while longer after that." Bail sighed and glanced sideways at his friend. "I'd hoped this mission would help, but maybe not."

Obi-wan shrugged and spread his hands wide. "You can't control love, Bail. Nor can you make the blind see what's right in front of them."

The Alderaanian gave him a wry smile. "Damn Jedi."


	11. Planning The Future

**_Destiny Will Be The Death Of Me_**

At dinner that night, as dishes were passed around the large table, Han noticed that the foods were not all traditional Alderaanian foods. In fact, as far as he could tell, the home world of every guest was present, from Corellia to Tatooine. Even Obi-wan Kenobi's birthplace of Stewjon was present, though he had not lived there – or even visited, Han presumed after hearing the man's story – since he was very young. That meant there was quite a bit of food, and Han knew from experience that the palace cooks would simply serve themselves the leftovers instead of bothering to cook themselves something different. They would be more than satisfied.

In addition to the new arrivals from Tatooine, many other guests were present for dinner that night. Han could name some, such as his own parents and Senator Mon Mothma, but there were about twenty guests total. He recognized some faces – such as that Alderaanian Moff, though he couldn't recall the man's name – and knew he'd never met others, such as the Bothan that sat three seats down and across the table. When Bail ran through names for everyone's benefit, Han made careful not of the name and appearance of each, stashing the information away in his internal "Important Dinner Guests" databank. If it were composed of physical flimsies – one for each person in the databank – as opposed to an imagined space in his mind, it would fill much of his refresher on the _Falcon_; the prince had had to memorize many IDGs, as he called them for short. If he were being honest, the quote-unquote "unimportant" guests implied by the IDG name didn't exist. According to his parents, all their guests were important, though he knew this was just a form of flattery.

There were only one or two dishes from each planet, that was something else the prince noticed. Not too surprising, considering the number of guests present. Luckily, roast gorak wasn't on the menu, and Bail had checked with Iorek to make sure the spice Han was allergic to wasn't in any of the other dishes, either.

As Han finished the delicious Corellian fried ice cream – can't beat the classics – conversation around the table turned to Luke, who had remained relatively isolated for much of the meal, despite sitting in the middle of the table. When he was introduced, it had simply been as "Luke," but somehow his surname of Skywalker had gotten out.

"Son of the Jedi, Anakin?" one dinner guest inquired, leaning forward to look past his large neighbor, the Bothan Borsk Fey'lya. Han's sharp eyes caught Bail glance at his daughter and then Obi-wan and the younger boy, but Leia, sitting to Han's right, missed the exchange.

Luke nodded timidly, well aware that everyone was staring at him. Another man, a Corellian Han recognized as Crix Madine, asked, "So then are you Force-sensitive?"

Aside from Han, Leia, and Obi-wan, who already knew the answer, the table's occupants practically jumped out of their seats in excitement when Luke nodded again.

"A Jedi!" someone exclaimed.

Luke looked alarmed. "No, I'm no Jedi," he told them hurriedly. "My father was."

"Ah, but you possess his talent, Luke. It's in your blood," Obi-wan told him. "Quite literally, in fact. Remember what I told you about mididchlorians?" The farmboy nodded. "All you need is someone to help you hone your skills. That's where I come in."

Mad nods from around the table. Although none of the "children" understood quite where this was going, and why a single Jedi meant so much to these people, it was obvious that this was very, _very_good news. Looking from one face to the next, it didn't matter the gender or species. Each face shone with one expression – hope. It would be a while yet before Han fully understood why.

Han made note of the sudden change of subject when the Moff and his underling returned from the refresher.

* * *

><p>It was a quiet night in the Palace of Alderaan. The usual hustle and bustle of palace servants had been quieted by Bail Organa's simple request; take the night off. Leave the rooms a mess. Go into town. Enjoy yourselves.<p>

Of course, the reason behind the request was the fact that he needed as few people in the palace as possible for the highly illegal meeting he was holding. Several of the guests he had invited that night were not in attendance now; one or two were even loyal to the Empire, even aside from the Moff. But Bail would do anything to defy these men, and they were unaware of many things that night – a result of careful planning. For instance, they believed they were on Alderaan for a convention the following day, something to do with spaceships. Bail didn't even remember exactly what that was; one of his men had actually set up a convention, but he'd had other details to attend to. Really these men had been invited as a cover for the meeting.

When the Imperials and relatively neutral guests were settled in their rooms, a single human server ready to get them anything they should need, the resistance members snuck quietly from their randomly assigned quarters and up to Bail's meeting room of choice – in this case, Carlist Rieekan's guest suite. All told there were eleven humans in attendance; Bail and Leia, Han Jonash and Jaina Solo, Obi-wan and Luke, Mon Mothma and Crix Madine, Jan Dodonna, and of course, Carlist Rieekan. Chewbacca was around too, but sometimes wandered into the corridors to make sure the guards were awake and alert, and to ensure that the Imps were still in their rooms.

Some noted with interest that Prince Han and Princess Leia were not often in the suite's main room. Usually, though the bedroom door was open and someone would occasionally wander through to use the refresher, the two lay facing each other on the bed, whispering. Most of the attendees did not mind; Luke, who was quite protective of his newfound sister, did. He would habitually stare at the pair of them until one looked up, then force a smile and drop his gaze.

This behavior did not startle either heir. Luke had been acting in a similar fashion since Obi-wan had broken the news.

"…Han and Leia, and of course Obi-wan and Luke…"

"Don't forget Chewbacca."

"…several days before, maybe?"

"But that might be too soon…"

"…enough starfighters?"

"The _Falcon_ will be a great help."

"There are always the A-wings…"

Snippets of conversation reached Han's ears from time to time, when he and Leia fell silent, but the fact that he had very little idea what they were talking about made it hard to follow. Though he really didn't care; technically he'd been part of the Alliance to Restore the Republic's High Command since the Kashyyyk mission, but he never paid much attention to their planning sessions. Being on High Command was really just a formality. Everything they did was just a suicide mission anyway. No one defeated the Empire. And was setting up another Republic really such a great idea? Sure, the Empire sucked, but look what happened to the last government! Han had lived through the end of the Clone Wars, and the Jedi and the Republic didn't seem that amazing to him. Couldn't they start over some _other_ way, that worked better?

And that was only _if_ they overthrew the Empire in the first place, which Han didn't think was possible anyway.

"There was one time," Leia was saying, "that I was lying on the beach in my swimsuit, and I was completely out of it, about to fall asleep – I had no idea what was going on around me. So I didn't know he was even on the beach, and all of a sudden he snuck over and dumped a huge bucket of water on me." She paused for a moment to laugh at the memory, but Han was busy soaking in her appearance and the sound of that laughter – she needed to laugh more – to listen to much of the story itself.

When her laughter faded, Leia grew serious. Her voice dropped and lost its joyful tone as she admitted, "I miss him so much sometimes. I loved him."

To say the words took Han by surprise would be an understatement. He couldn't help but stare. She loved him? Han's own brother? Of course, Currier had seen much more of her when she was younger, and they had always been close. Despite his young attraction to the planet, after Leia was adopted Han had often made excuses _not_ to visit Alderaan, though his brother had been more than willing. And Currier had been the partier, too. Even when Han set the Corellian swoop racing record – four straight years as champion – Currier had been the life of the after party. Han had spent much of it tending to his wounds and his bike. He hadn't put in any time with Leia, which was almost exactly the opposite of what Currier had done.

The Princess looked up into Han's face, her expression filled with sorrow. Did it pain her to look at someone who so resembled Currier? These days he acted more like his brother used to, too. Was he just causing this girl more pain by being around her? Though simply 'girl' hardly seemed adequate for this particular princess.

Voices from the other room suddenly became clear. "Maybe stagger the timing so that by the time word gets to the Death Star, the attack is already underway? That was we lower the chance of Tarkin or Vader deciding they want to rise up in the Emperor's place." It was Jan Dodonna's suggestion, but Madine was clearly not impressed.

"I am pretty sure we covered that," he said impatiently. "It was one of the _first_ things we covered, if I'm not mistaken. It's just a matter of how much time that gives us between the two attacks."

"Well, it depends on the location of the Death Star," Rieekan pointed out. "If they're across the galaxy or in hyperspace, it will take longer for them to get the message. Plus, the Emperor lives in isolation; if we time it right, it could take days for anyone to figure out he died in the first place, let alone pass along that information to Vader and Tarkin."

"Draw them to Yavin IV," a new voice suggested. The group looked up to see Han, dressed in his Corellian Navy uniform – immaculately pressed and wrinkle-free, despite the fact that he'd just been lying in bed – leaning comfortably against the doorway. Leia brushed past him, looking slightly confused and maybe a little hurt. Luke shot Han a dirty look that the Corellian ignored as he continued, playing with his holstered blaster, "It's already our best-equipped base. Send in the personnel and starfighters from other bases gradually, without drawing attention to the area, and then when we're ready to stage the attack, one of our guys gets tracked there, and we pull them into the trap." He finished with a half-shrug that said, 'It should be obvious.'

Han's calm presentation of the simple idea was met with a moment of stunned silence as the others on High Command thought it over. Finally, Carlist Rieekan looked up from his datapad, where he had been scanning the Death Star plans Han and Leia had provided earlier that day. "I like it."

Slowly, Dodonna nodded. "It could work."

"Yes, yes," Madine agreed, "but what about the raid on the Imperial Palace?"

It was Han's turn to be shocked into silence, but this time at the outrageousness of the idea, not the brilliant simplicity of it. Leia at least knew they'd been thinking about raiding the Imperial stronghold, even she hadn't expected them to actually do it. Apparently that decision had been made.

"You want to go to _Coruscant_?" the Corellian prince exclaimed, his calm demeanor dropping suddenly as he addressed the group. "Are you _trying_ to get killed?"

Bail got up from his seat on the couch and crossed the room to where Han stood, completely aghast. Laying a hand on the younger man's shoulder, he lowered his voice to say, "Han, I know you think it's crazy. So do I. But we wouldn't do it if it weren't completely necessary. We're sending in a small team to infiltrate the palace and take out the Emperor. Then the Yavin troops – or whoever launches the attack – will take out the Death Star using the plans that you and Leia just brought us. We have word that Grand Moff Tarkin" – Han scowled at the name – "is onboard, and intelligence suggests that Darth Vader might be too. Even if only one of the missions succeeds, it will still be a huge blow against the Empire."

"And if neither does," Han spit vehemently, not bothering to keep his voice down, "we've killed off half the Rebellion! We'll ruin our chances of _ever_ defeating the Empire."

Bail shook his head sadly, leading Han into the bedroom and away from the others, who, naturally, where staring. "There are ten people here with votes. You and I will not be enough to convince them to change their minds."

"What about Leia?" Han asked, desperation creeping into his voice. "Surely she could convince them this is a suicide mission! She could convince Vader that he's a pittin, if she wanted to!"

"She could," Bail agreed easily, "even if she didn't believe it herself. And that's just the problem, Han. She thinks we should do it. It was her idea in the first place, but until today none of us thought we'd really do it."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Han looked Bail straight in the eye and said, "I'm not voting for it."

"I know you won't…"

"Good."

"…but I'd like you to be on the infiltration team."

If looks could kill, Alderaan would be planning a royal funeral. Han was adamant that they should not go through with this plan; it would only hurt them in the long run. How could they ever succeed in both of the missions? And as soon as he's done explaining this, what does Bail do? Ask him to be right in the middle of it. He might fight with the troops at Yavin, but there was no way he was ever going to get him to the Imperial Palace.

Well, there was one way, but it didn't matter. They wouldn't ever do that, so effectively there was no way they would ever get him to Coruscant.

Bail grabbed Han's biceps and shook him slightly. There was desperation in his eyes and expression, and suddenly Han was a lot less confident about that trip he didn't want to take. "Han," Bail started, in a voice choked with emotion, "they want Leia to go on the raid."


	12. Destiny Altering Decisions

**Sorry if the timeline for the next couple chapters gets messed up, I'm confused by it myself. Don't worry about exact dates/times. But I _am_ trying to fix it._  
><em>**

**_Destiny Will Be The Death Of Me_**

The darkness weighed heavily on the shoulders of the young Princess as she restlessly stalked the familiar passages of her home. It was well past midnight, and the moon was high in the sky, illuminating bits and pieces of the corridors through the large windows every five meters or so. The Imperial-control guards had been sent to bed after the meeting had adjourned, an hour or two previously, and Leia was completely alone.

The High Command had loved Han's plan to stage the Death Star attack from Yavin IV, and had already devised a schedule to reinforce the base. Jan Dodonna himself was going in in a week to supervise. They had also decided to go ahead with the raid on the Imperial Palace, despite Han's objections. And he certainly hadn't tried to hide them. Killing the Emperor is a great idea, sure, but plausible? _Possible_? The Corellian certainly didn't think so, although his parents liked the idea.

But what stuck in Leia's mind about the meeting was none of these things. No, it was the conversation with Han about his brother that she remembered. More specifically, the look on Han's face when she said she loved Currier. Had he taken that the wrong way? She thought so. He hadn't given her a chance to explain herself, though, because he'd gotten up to join the conversation in the other room.

Han's suite was one floor up and two corridors away from Leia's. It was the same suite he stayed in every time he visited, even way back when she was seven and he had to "babysit" her. She still remembered how he'd lock himself in his room all day, studying, and she would sit outside in the hallway with her ear pressed to the door as she listened to him pace and mutter about Imperial history and hyperspace calculations and where various Outer Rim territories were relative to other Rims and to each other.

Leia thought now about knocking, but there was no guarantee Han was awake, and it he was sleeping she didn't want to wake him up by banging on the door. That was one of the worst ways to be woken up, in her opinion. So instead, she reached for the door controls and hit 'open.'

To her surprise, the door did indeed slide open soundlessly. That was unusual – Han was ridiculously paranoid, especially when he wasn't at his own palace on Corellia, and always locked his door. She had expected to need the passcode he'd once given her, back when Currier died. He'd needed to get away from Corellia for a while and Bail was more than willing to lend him a bed. Still, even on Alderaan, Han had been having nightmares and Leia knew it. She'd followed him nonstop for days until he given her the code and she could 'break in' at night to go comfort him – and receive that comfort in turn. So maybe the door wasn't locked because he wasn't asleep after all, and the soft glow of a bedside table lamp seemed to back up that idea.

As she approached the bedroom, though, Leia realized Han was lying on his side on the large bed, curled up under the heavy comforter. The room was unnaturally cool, so she couldn't blame him; she'd have had another blanket or two, herself. Leia cautiously climbed onto the far side of the bed, trying not to jostle him. The last thing she wanted to do was wake the Corellian up at this hour, when he was already agitated from the meeting and their talk earlier.

His eyes, she now saw, were closed. His long hair – too long, according to his mother, but she liked it that way – fell across his forehead, and Leia couldn't help but reach out and brush it back like she had that day in the water a year previously.

It was tempting to lie down next to him with her ear pressed against his chest and let the sound of his even breathing and steady heartbeat send her into a deep sleep, but she pushed the thought aside. He thought she was in love with his dead brother, so until she got to explain herself, she couldn't take advantage of the opportunity – even if it wasn't in quite the way he thought it was. Instead she had to settle for pulling the blanket up over his shoulders and tucking it tight around him. As she did so, something caught Leia's eye. She let out a soft gasp and whispered, "I haven't seen Renn in years…"

Wrapped tightly in Han's protective embrace was an old, battered stuffed tauntaun.

* * *

><p><em>I love waking up to warm sunlight on my face and a slight breeze blowing across my forehead,<em> Han reflected as he sat up slowly. A small soft toy tumbled out of his arms and fell on its side, staring at the far wall. Reaching out with his right hand, Han touched the fuzzy snout, where the fur had lost its silky smooth feel over the years. Currier's childhood toy, Renn, named after Han's old stuffed bantha, Renn. For the past two years, since Currier's death, Han had carried the tauntaun with him everywhere. Just because the toy didn't always come out of his bag didn't mean he wasn't there. Han supposed he'd fetched the toy the previous night because of the conversation with Leia. He missed Currier, too. He loved his brother, too – although presumably in a different way. A _very_ different way.

Han threw his blanket off and stood up, stretching. In the other room, he could see a tray of Corellian foods sitting on the table. Judging by the ryshcate and glass of Whyren's Reserve, Iorek hadn't forgotten his old friend's definition of the word "breakfast".

After his "meal", the Prince headed down to the kitchens, hoping Iorek was around. He knew the chefs and kitchen assistants had to take any chance they could to take a break; the hours were long and the kitchens were hot. Glancing at his chronometer, Han knew his chances were decent. It was much too late for Iorek to be around finishing up breakfast, but he was probably about to start the lunch run. It wasn't easy feeding an entire castle, especially when today was one of the three days of the week that Bail opened the Great Hall to anyone in Aldera who wanted to drop by for some lunch.

He popped into the kitchen at 1100 local time, and almost immediately spotted the thin, lanky form of his red-headed friend.

"Hey, Ginger!"

In the crammed but quiet kitchen, only two people looked up – Iorek and a slight blond girl Han had had a fling with once, whose name happened to be… Ginger. Han shot her a smile and headed over to Iorek.

"Gods, Ging, I swear you've grown again," Han commented, embracing his friend. The Prince was a little over a meter and three-fourths tall, but Iorek cleared two meters easily. It was always amusing to see him stand next to Leia, who was about thirty centimeters shorter than _Han_.

"Good to see you too, Shorty," Iorek said, holding the Corellian at arm's length. That never failed to amuse Leia, since when she was younger, Han had called _her_ that. She'd never thought of him as being short until she'd seen him hanging out with Iorek one day a year or two ago. Now the nickname 'Shorty' had fallen from use between the two. "You could use a haircut."

Brushing his friend off, Han countered, "Ah, lay off it Iorek. You sound like my mum. I like my hair the way it is." Unconsciously, he ran a hand through the long brown locks, but Iorek wouldn't let it go.

"As a kid you liked it short. You complained if it tickled your ears or the back of your neck." In reaction to that, Han again played with his hair involuntarily, brushing the top of his ear and then rubbing the back of his neck. The chef grinned. "Leia likes it long, right?"

The slight blush creeping up Han's neck and face pretty much answered that question. Everyone knew that Han and Leia liked each other. Well, everyone but Han and Leia, that is. Iorek's grin grew wider and he teased, "You used to be such a good sabacc player, too. What a shame." He dropped his gaze to the floor and shielded his eyes with his hands as if embarrassed to even know the Corellian.

"Halle metes chun, petchuck," Han muttered, knowing that, unlike Currier, Iorek had no idea what the phrase was. Olys Corellisi was still taught to the Royal Family, and Han had expanded his knowledge thanks to the many smugglers and pirates he conversed with, using the language as a code. Of course, the words and phrases learned in such a way, for example the one he had just uttered, were often things his parent were not aware of, nor would they approve of them. But they were perfect for situations like this, when he needed someone to wonder _What the hell did Han just say?_

"Iorek!" someone called from across the room. Glancing around, Han became aware that the activity in the kitchen was picking up.

Iorek glanced down at his princely friend. "Well, I guess I have to get going. Take –"

"Hang on," Han interrupted. "Can I stick around? I want you to continue something the cooks on Corellia started."

Clearly confused and trying to decide how he was supposed to finish a dish someone on another planet had begun, Iorek asked, "What's that?"

Han flashed a wicked grin at the chef, one that made Iorek want to run the other way. Knowing Han as he did, he almost took off at his next words. "My lessons."

* * *

><p>Leia took a deep breath and started, "I decided."<p>

There were two things Han knew she may have decided on, and part of him desperately wanted her to have made up her mind on one subject; the other part was terrified that maybe she had. So he was both happy and a little disappointed when she continued, "I've decided to train with Obi-wan."

Despite his pleasure at her declaration, Han felt like he'd been stabbed in the stomach. There was only one thing that meant, realistically; she was going.

For two weeks he'd been trying to convince her that Luke and Obi-wan were more than capable of taking care of a decrepit Sith Lord. Watching them train made it seem fairly likely, actually. And the two trained often, in a soundproof dungeon room, undetected by anyone who may care. As far as anyone was concerned, they were in their own rooms or out in Aldera. But Han and Leia had watched them several times, and seen the skill the old man possessed. Luke was a fast learner, evidently, because he could hold his own against his master not long into their sessions.

But every time they went down to watch, Han couldn't help but notice that Leia seemed drawn to them. She inched closer and closer, asking more and more questions. The most recent time, she held Luke's lightsaber and twirled it around in a way that should have beheaded her, yet she came away unscathed. And despite her insistence to the contrary, Han was positive she'd been down to watch several times without him.

"You're going," he choked out, trying to smile. He failed miserably. "Good for you. I guess that means I better start training, too, then."

They had agreed Leia would only go on the trip to Imperial Center if she was first instructed in the Jedi arts, which at first Han had been sure she wouldn't do. They had also decided he would only go if she did – well, he'd decided that a while ago anyway. But they were definitely on the same page – if one went, they both went. They were a team.

"And I've been thinking," she went on. Knowing what was coming, Han's heart stuttered to a stop before picking up a frantic sprint. "With this mission… well, we might not make it back. Or if one of us does, the other might not. And I don't know about you, but I could never be happy if I came home without you, knowing that I hadn't been able to keep you safe." Han tried to get a word in, but she wouldn't let him. "And so I want to live these next few weeks as if they're my last, because they might be." She paused to take another deep breath, looked Han in the eye, and said, "I want to spend every second of my time with you, whether we're sleeping, traveling, training, or just killing time. It doesn't matter if we're in the city, at a banquet, on another planet – as long as I'm with you."

Gesturing to herself and then her companion, she finished with, "So yes, we can give this a try. I'd like that." A small, unconscious smile took over her face.

Even though they had hugged many times before, it felt different somehow when Leia stepped into his arms and he cradled her fragile frame in his arms. Maybe because what he held now was _his_. His, and no one else's.

Well, maybe Bail's.

"Thank you," Han murmured into her hair. She tried to wiggle free after a moment, possibly because her face was pressed against Han's military name tag, but he clamped his arms tighter around her and muttered, "I'm not ready to let go yet." The muffled giggle made his stomach dance with pleasure. _All mine._

* * *

><p>Three weeks after the initial planning and a week after Han and Leia had decided to go to Imperial Center, the Prince and Princess were the only members of High Command not attending a meeting held late at night via holocomm, in much the same manner the Jedi Masters used to conference in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. As is usual when a member of an important committee is left out, this was because the meeting was about them – specifically, Han.<p>

"I don't think Prince Han should go on the raid," Rieekan objected, leaning forward on the table. It was impossible to miss the betrayal in Bail's eyes; the Viceroy of Alderaan had discussed the subject in detail – and in private – with his close friend Carlist the previous night. The General was quick to explain his comment, though he knew it would do little, if anything, to placate Bail. It didn't help that only three of those present were actually on Alderaan; Rieekan, Kenobi, and Organa. "Obi-wan has made it clear that only a Jedi can kill the Emperor, and he has explained why several times. I think it would be an unnecessary risk to send Solo in with the others. Not only for himself, but because having the extra body will attract attention, and no attention is good attention within the Imperial Palace. If something goes wrong, we lose two heirs to two thrones on two Core Worlds. That will draw attention, too. Not to mention he's had that nasty limp since the Kashyyyk mission. Not only will it hamper his effectiveness in battle, everyone knows about it."

Madine gave everyone a moment to chew on the idea of leaving one of their best fighters behind before he jumped in, his image flickering slightly as he commented that, "Prince Han will provide vital security for the others. He can wear Stormtrooper armor as planned but stay back a safe distance instead of being a direct escort as originally planned. From that position he can still keep an eye on them and dispatch Imperials accordingly. There's no reason for him not to go along."

"Actually, there are several reasons," Mon Mothma retaliated, "and I believe Carlist has just stated a few of them. But perhaps the most important is his limp. It's fairly pronounced, and everyone knows about it. The media was all over him after Currier died. His cover will never hold up."

Bail looked around at the faces of the High Command – minus Han and Leia – and tried to decide who would vote which way. Carlist and probably Mon Mothma would be against Han going, Madine for. Jan Dodonna could go either way, but Obi-wan had expressed his concerns.

Then there were Han's own parents. Jaina had become – understandably – very protective of her son since the younger Solo's death, and would probably be against it simply for selfish reasons. But that didn't necessarily mean she would vote against it. And Jonash thought, to the best of Bail's knowledge, that Han should go, both to protect Leia and because, as the king would put it, 'it's the Corellian thing to do.'

But as much as he wanted Han to go – and knew Han himself wanted to go, to protect Leia – Bail wasn't going to bring up his personal reasons here. Leia could more than take care of herself, and they all knew it. Plus, Luke and Obi-wan would be with her. His objection stemmed from fatherly instinct.

Rieekan looked apologetically at his longtime friend before asking for a vote. Bail held his breath; there were eight of them, and there was every chance they might have a dead even tie. It was probably the best he could hope for at this point.

"Send him," said Madine, deciding to start. He looked to his left, at the image of Mon Mothma, and all eyes immediately gravitated towards her.

"No."

The eyes shifted again to her left. This time the person was actually on Alderaan, and Bail wasn't staring at a blued image. Obi-wan's vote was a simple but quiet, "No."

"Keep him here," Dodonna agreed. Bail swallowed. Things weren't looking good.

It was his turn; he was on Dodonna's left. He debated voicing his protest now, but it was too late. They were only looking for a vote. Bail met the eyes of every person around the table, pausing to linger at Jaina's image and again at Carlist's bright blue eyes. Silently begging them to agree with him, he nodded without a word.

Jaina looked pained as well, but managed to shake her head. "No." And Bail knew it was a lost cause. Jonash wanted to send him, but Carlist would be the deciding vote.

"It's the Corellian thing to do," Jonash said, exactly as Bail had predicted he would. "Send him in."

Carlist shook his head sadly. It hurt him to betray Bail in such a way, but it had to be done. He honestly thought it would be better for the mission – and the Rebellion – if only the Jedi and his trainees went along. "No. That's five to three; Han Solo stays here. Obi-wan Kenobi, Leia Organa, and Luke Skywalker will raid the Imperial Palace in two standard month's time."


	13. Simulators and Alderaanian Princes

**Again, please excuse any timeline errors. I tried.**

_**Destiny Will Be The Death of Me**_

Another six weeks had passed, and with three until the raid, only Obi-wan knew Han wasn't going. Three of them were training blind, and one of them unnecessarily. Because Han had such a different job – supposedly – than the others, he was often training alone anyway. It did keep him occupied, if nothing else. So he spent most of his time somewhere that was practically his bedroom these days – the firing range. The one no one but palace security – who didn't use it – and the Royal Family knew about. Even Obi-wan and the Rebel High Command were unaware of its existence. But Han was logging more hours down there than any Alderaanian – with the exception of Her Royal Highness Princess Leia, who had been using a blaster since she was twelve. The range had several traditional firing stations with targets, both for unmodified blasters and light-emitting blasters that were basically simulators. Then there were the actual simulators, which Han had used many times in the past to train while on leave from the Corellian Navy.

Taking a swig of water, Han tossed aside the sim-rifle in disgust as he left one such simulator. There was no DL-44 in the sim, and even if there was he wouldn't be allowed to use it. He had to adjust to a new blaster, because of his cover for the Imperial raid – a Stormtrooper. _How original. Go undercover as a guy in a mask._ Still, the Empire would never know he wasn't one of them. Still, he didn't want to leave his personal blaster, his constant companion, behind. Leia sometimes joked that it was his version of a security blanket, even if it wasn't working for whatever reason – if it wasn't there, he was uncomfortable. It was one of the reasons Bail had allowed him to keep it when they reached Alderaan, a normally weapons-free planet. Even for public appearances in Aldera he tucked the blaster into the waistband of his pants, so he could touch the grip easily at the small of his back. For Bail's sake, he left the power pak in the Viceroy's hands.

And there had been _loads_ of public appearances. Ever since Prince Currier's sudden death, the Corellian people grew restless when the Royal Family – especially the heir to the throne – disappeared from sight for any length of time. So even though he had been staying on Alderaan for the greater part of a year and was officially on an extended leave of absence, he still donned his Corellian Navy uniform from time to time and walked out into the city. Despite the no-blasters rule, he was permitted by Bail to wear his DL-44 at all times. Then of course there was his private guard consisting of gawking tourist-types – who were, of course, nothing of the sort. But it gave the impression that Han was walking safely through the streets without a guard at all, and seeing him never being harmed in such a fashion, day after day and week after week, made the Corellians back home very happy.

What concerned people on both Alderaan and Corellia was that Han had spent so much time in the Palace of Alderaan. It wasn't unusual for foreign royalty to visit for a bit or to travel to another planet for schooling, but Han had been away from home for nearly a year, and was long since finished his lessons. He was supposed to be serving in the Navy. Rumors flew across both planets and the rest of the Core Worlds that Han and Leia would soon be married. Typically Royal Family marriages occurred between royalty, yes… from the same planet. Or at least the same system. But in this case it was neither. No one knew what would happen if a princess from Alderaan married a Prince from Corellia – a prince with a very Corellian attitude, in addition. Not exactly the style most Alderaanians wanted for their princess. But if they were to marry, where would they live? Who would they rule? Neither had a sibling to rule in their place, so would the line then revert to a cousin? In Han's case that may be a bit simpler than Leia's, since to the best of the public's knowledge she had no heir in any way shape or form. Possibly they'd move between the two planets and try to govern them both.

Han was completely fed up with the rumors. He had never talked to Leia about anything even remotely related to getting married. Well, apart from that one conversation sitting in the sand on the anniversary of Currier's death, but that wasn't at all the sort of thing people were saying. Though it wasn't the actual rumors that bothered him; rather, it was that they were so irrevocably wrong – and he so desperately yearned for them to be true.

The one public appearance that always stuck in his mind was on a fairly cool but sunny day near the end of Aldera's summer, with about a month and a half until the raid. The twins had been freed for the afternoon, a rare occurrence, and the friends had decided to go for a stroll through the peaceful city. They were accompanied by Han's usual entourage, and of course the Corellian's DL-44 was tucked into his waistband – without a power pak.

The Jedi-in-training – or padawans, as Obi-wan called them – were instructed to carry their lightsabers, as they needed to get used to concealing the weapons in places that may not be the most comfortable. Luke got away with that fairly easily, stowing it in the belt at his back, under the loose-fitting shirt Bail had provided for him. Leia had no such luck, wearing a white dress that hugged her upper body tightly and barely got any looser at the hips and legs – enough to move. It was by no means her favorite, though Han loved it, but Obi-wan had wanted her to wear something that would make hiding the weapon hard, and this was just the dress.

Occasionally she had to adjust her gait to correct for the saber hilt rubbing against the inner thigh of her left leg, since it was strapped to her right. Han and Luke were enjoying teasing her about this uncomfortable predicament she found herself in as they walked through the tame city.

The reason that particular day was significant is the conversations Han overheard as they made their ways through the crowds on the sidewalks. It was the first time, he realized, that Luke had made a public appearance on Alderaan. Not that most people would notice a native of the Tatooine system if he were to go out on his own – but he was accompanied by both Han and Leia. Bail had provided the sandy-haired farmboy with clothes fit for a prince, and clearly the people were noticing, as they stared with unrestrained curiosity. Although by clothes and grooming the shorter male could be Alderaanian royalty, he clearly felt awkward in his present situation. Still, he could be from another House – a lesser-known prince from another part of the planet, one who could be in Aldera with his parents to arrange a marriage with Leia. And if he weren't well known, he might seem uncomfortable in this sudden change of environment. But he appeared a pleasant boy – more the type a princess should marry than a Corellian. Maybe Han was just staying on Alderaan because of a dispute with his parents, as the story went.

"Luke, kid, calm down. Ain't you ever seen a city 'fore?"

The Tatooinian was fidgety, glancing around uncomfortably as they walked through the city. Occassionally, at Leia's request, they stopped to pop into a store or a bar, where the Princess would hold a polite conversation with the owner or shopkeeper before buying something. Han's discrete bodyguards took the bags without being asked; they had no real duties to perform on a planet like this anyway. It didn't escape Han's notice that the total sum of credits, whether Leia bought one item or several, was always quite high in the empty and shabbier-looking establishments. She spent less – though still a respectable amount – if the place was popular and well-maintained. But regardless of price, there was always _something_ she bought, and Han admired her for it. He would never have thought of doing something like that back home. _Some prince I am,_ he joked to himself.

It was in the cleanest and most modern of these stores that Luke appeared least comfortable, and the ones were the gossip was at its most wild. Though the kid had sort of gotten used to the palace life, most of his adjustment was because he was constantly training with Obi-wan and had no time to worry about where he was or what he was eating. But in the streets, whispers and, quite frankly, shouts were heard everywhere – all about Leia and the new guy, that kid Luke – that's what Prince Han had called him, right? So what's the wedding date? People wanted to know.

And it pissed Han off. That was the day he realized he wanted the rumors about him and Leia to be true, because it was better than the ones about her marrying her own long-lost brother – but they weren't allowed to tell people who he really was. His cover was, in fact, Alderaanian royalty. Go figure. And so to get his mind off these problems – because even though he and Leia were sort of together now, no one knew it and the rumors persisted – Han spent his time at the firing range, training for a mission he was against with every fiber of his being. One he didn't know he was no longer going on.

Luckily, the night of that realization he'd been able to ask Leia a very important question – one she'd later said yes to. _Seven weeks_ had passed since then, and guess what? They'd been separated the entire time by Obi-wan Kriffin' Kenobi. They hadn't had any time to actually be _together_.

Han picked up his DL-44 and aimed at the farthest target, hitting it dead-center through the forehead.


	14. Lazy Afternoons And Sabacc Filled Nights

**Sorry for the long wait, guys. Holidays, wisdom teeth, concussion, you know the drill. Should be back to my regular Sunday or Monday updates now.**

**Also, I just posted another Han/Leia story, a one shot called _Money Over Medals_. I'd love it if you'd check that out too!  
><strong>

_**Destiny Will Be The Death Of Me**_

With a week to go to the raid, Han finally put his foot down and told Obi-wan in no uncertain terms that he, Luke and Leia needed some time to themselves, to take a break from training even for just a few hours. It was at this same lunch that Leia admitted to Bail that she knew her true heritage. The plan worked; he and Obi-wan disappeared to talk for several hours, and the three were given the rest of the day off.

So it was that Han and Leia wandered the palace grounds hand-in-hand that afternoon. Whispers followed their every move, something Han was quite pleased about. _Yes, she's mine now. You can say whatever you damn well please about it._

As the afternoon drew to a close and the sun disappeared behind the high palace walls, the temperature dropped off quickly, as is usual in the autumn. It was on days like this that Han could feel the winter coming on – something he was fond of. Winter was one of his favorite seasons, so long as he didn't have it year-round like on some planets.

Han himself didn't notice the temperature much, given that he had a heavy dark blue jacket on – for once, he wasn't in his military uniform, but instead in casual wear. There was one resemblance between his uniform and his current attire, being the yellow bloodstripe running down the seam of his pants. The second-class was for the Kashyyyk mission, and he didn't like them as much as the first-class – they made him think of Currier. But today he'd decided to wear them anyway. After all, it was Currier's birthday.

But Leia was not dressed as warmly, having had workout clothes on when they talked to Obi-wan about getting the day off. Even when Han had suggested changing, she'd brushed it off, not wanting to leave his side. Now, though, she was beginning to shiver.

"Cold, Princess?" Han asked, letting go of her hand. She tried to protest and grab his hand back, but he put an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her biceps. Her hair was pinned up on her head as usual, and he almost reached up to undo it, but stopped when he remembered something she'd once told him. "You know, if your hair was down, it would cover your neck and you'd be a lot warmer."

Leia looked up at him, her brown eyes fixed on his. "You know I can't do that," she said seriously. "Not until…." She trailed off, embarrassed, but the Corellian's response was accompanied by his typical lopsided grin.

"That was the point, Princess."

A moment passed, their expressions fixed, before understanding dawned on Leia's face. Eyes wide, she tried to back away from Han a little bit. It wasn't that the idea was terrible, it was just sooner than she was expecting him to mention it.

But he just laughed, pulling her back to him and squeezing her tightly. "Relax, Leia, I'm just kidding." _For now. That day will come eventually, I know it. I want it._ And when Han Solo wanted something, that something had a habit of happening.

"Here, sweetheart." Letting go of her for the briefest of moments, Han took his jacket off and put it around Leia's shoulders, help her to slide her arms into it. He stepped back to admire the sight before him; the Princess of Alderaan, dressed in shorts and a tank top with his jacket – which was much, much too big for her – the ambient light giving her pale skin a pink tinge. Unless maybe that was a blush, and judging by the expression on her face, that could easily have been it.

"Thank you," she said softly, hugging the jacket to her and stepping back into his embrace. She had to crane her neck back to look at him now, and she found him staring back with an intensity she'd never seen before.

The look on Leia's face was a cross between confusion and shock as he examined every square centimeter of her face. The sounds of the palace courtyard – even the men's voices yelling back and forth to each other as they played ball on the far side – faded to the background, until all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears and the pounding of his heartbeat. Slowly, he leaned down towards Leia. _My girl._

He took it as a good sign that she didn't back off or crack a smile and joke like she had a few months ago. Bail was nowhere to be found; there was no reason not to….

His body pressed hard against hers, holding her possessively but gently, Han closed the distance between himself and the Princess, eyes sliding shut, and touched his lips to hers. They were soft and sweet and tasted of fruit from the tree over their heads, and when he tried to back off so as not to overwhelm her, they pushed back at him. After a stunned half second, he leaned back into her feverishly, his hands finding their way to her lower back as hers tangled in his hair, pulling him to her.

They didn't pull apart until the whistling reached their ears. Han looked up to see the servants and palace workers – including Iorek and some other kitchen staff – who had been playing at the other end of the spacious courtyard. Naturally, Iorek was the one leading the cheers, pumping his fist in celebration.

"Ging, you're so dead!" Han hollered, but a huge grin was plastered across his face as he ducked his head to kiss Leia again.

"You don't believe in the Force, do you?"

Luke, Leia, and Han were eating dinner on Han's bedroom floor, and Luke had gotten a bit Force-crazy in his conversation. Naturally the Prince had responded with skepticism.

"I ain't the religious type, kid," he replied. They'd had this conversation several times before, as the younger man tried to convince the elder that the Force was real. "But hey, if you wanna go ahead and believe there's some mystical energy field _thing_ out there controlling yer destiny, be my guest." It was clear the kid believed in it fully, and he even levitated plates towards himself a few times to prove it. While the Corellian had to admit it was impressive and he had to concede to at least part of the Force thing, this whole "destiny" idea didn't sit well with him. He and he alone was in charge of his life, not some freaky all-powerful energy field.

Han reached for a piece of oro bark, only to have it dance away from his outstretched fingertips. A laugh escaped Leia's lips, but Luke sat nonchalantly looking out the window behind Han. His hands were folded in front of him, tucked into the long sleeves of one of the many princely shirts Bail had provided him with.

"Very funny, Luke," Han growled, the shadows throwing half his face into darkness.

The Jedi-to-be had to admit that the effect was a bit intimidating, but he managed to pull an innocent expression. "What? I can't help it if your food runs away from you."

On Han's left, Leia just couldn't contain her laughter. It wasn't often someone got the best of Han Solo. In fact, they only person who could do it with any consistency was Currier.

Seizing the opportunity, Han launched himself at Leia and pinned her to the ground, holding his fingers in an imitation blaster pistol and pressing them against her temple. "Hand over the bark, or the woman gets it," he uttered in his most menacing voice. Luke's eyes went wide in mock terror.

"No! Don't hurt her," the Jedi protested, holding up his hands in innocence. "I'll do anything."

Leia – who had stopped laughing because, with Han's weight on top of her, it was a little hard to breath – wouldn't let her brother be the hero. "No, Luke, save yourself!"

"Quiet! I'm the one with the blaster, I decide who dies."

The twins shared a look and a shrug in unison, then, together, brought their hands up in blasters to point at Han, Leia's at his chest and Luke's at his head.

Looking at them in defeat, Han sighed and dropped his 'blaster,' raising his hands in the same gesture Luke had just abandoned. He sat up slowly, allowing Leia to breathe again. But even when she sat up again, he pulled her against his chest and held her tight to him. She tried to protest at first, until she realized he was doing nothing more than holding her; she left herself sink into his chest, eyes sliding shut.

The room had grown fairly dark as the sun set, but the group's eyes had adjusted gradually and so it wasn't until he looked at his friend and sister that Luke realized it was getting late. "I better get going, guys," he told them. Not that he really had anywhere to be, but he knew they'd certainly appreciate the alone time; after all, when they'd talked to Obi-wan about having some time off, he knew their plan wasn't to have him tag along with them. In fact, he had been about to eat dinner alone downstairs when Han passed him in the corridor and added, almost as an afterthought, that Luke should come up and join them. He'd felt bad about agreeing to it, but Han had insisted when he realized the other option was to make the poor kid eat alone. And as much as he wanted a quiet night with Leia, he wasn't going to do that to Luke, either.

Now that they'd shared a meal and an hour or two of conversation, though, he knew Luke was doing them a favor. He was definitely grateful for the fact that the Tatooine native approached him and shook his hand before he even had the chance to get up; Han didn't particularly want to move from this position. He even crouched to give them both a hug, instead of trying to pry Leia away from Han. All three laughed.

"Goodnight, Luke," Leia said, kissing her brother's cheek. He repeated the gesture, then leaned in towards Han as if he were going to do the same to the Corellian.

"Whoa whoa whoa, kid, no thanks. I get my kisses from this one," he replied, squeezing Leia.

This was followed by more laughter, then Luke was gone, and Han and Leia realized that they finally had an entire night to themselves. Han, drinking a strong ale from who-knows-where, looked at Leia over the rim of the glass.

"Wanna play sabacc?"


	15. Silence

**I'm so sorry for the uber super long hiatus this story was on. Eventually Al, my missing flash drive, was found in my sister's car. Not exactly sure how he got there. But I managed to rewrite several chapters and hope to finish this story eventually. Hopefully some of my former readers will continue, and maybe I'll pick up some new ones. Again, I'm very sorry for the wait.**

**_**Destiny Will Be the Death of Me**_**

When Han woke up on the schedule day of departure, he realized he'd been very, very wrong when he had observed some time before that waking up with sun and a breeze was good. Nothing could ever be considered anything other than depressing after waking up with Princess Leia Organa in his arms.

True, her long, loose brown hair tickled his face and stuck to his lips, but it didn't matter. He could feel her body move under his arm as she breathed, slowly, in and out, in and out, and feel her strong heartbeat against his chest, beating in time with his. He could wake up this way every morning, and the rest of his life wouldn't matter; he'd be the happiest being in the galaxy. Ideally, of course, they would never get up out of bed.

But alas, they had to.

Leaving Leia alone in bed, Han quickly changed into his civvies and headed downstairs for breakfast. It was only about three hours until they were scheduled to leave, at midday. The chefs had whipped up a huge breakfast buffet for the entire palace, as a send-off for Princess Leia and her escorts, who were leaving that day on a short cruise around the galaxy, so there were people drifting around the Hall when Han walked in. A few stopped to talk to him, or to say hello. Han had become a staple of palace life on Alderaan, and people were sad to see him go, even if only for a week.

Munching a biscuit, Han made his way back towards his room, but was cut off by Obi-wan and Luke. They ushered him into a side room and sat him down. "Han, we have something to tell you."

His stomach dropped. What could they need to talk about? Was Leia hurt in one of their training sessions? Was she not going now? Because he had only agreed to go because she was going. If she wasn't going, at this stage he couldn't drop out. And he was still completely against the whole idea.

"You aren't going anymore."

_Oh kriff, she's… wait. What?_

Luke gave his friend a pained, apologetic look while Obi-wan explained the various things that General Rieekan had argued way back when. Most of it went over Han's head. _She's going in alone. She's going in alone. She's going in alone._ Not completely, Luke and Obi-wan would be there, but Han wouldn't be. _She's going in alone._

"This is ridiculous," Han declared, standing up and smacking his hand on the table. "I've been training for months the same way they have – I don't care if they've been learning this Force" – he cut himself off before he could swear – "and I've just been practicing things I already know. It's still training. I'm just as ready for and vital to this mission as the twins and some old gray-haired bastard!"

Obi-wan ignored the insult and let him rant for a few more minutes before replying, "Yes, perhaps. But your destiny lies along a different path." Different from who or what, he didn't say.

That answer didn't satisfy Han, not by a long shot. Letting out an angry groan, he kicked aside his chair, letting it topple over and clatter to the floor. "Destiny will be the death of me."

Han stalked out the door, pulling at fistfuls of his long hair.

* * *

><p>The silence was suffocating. He couldn't draw air into his lungs, not once. Surely he would die here, alone in this room with the silent comlink, because he couldn't <em>breathe<em>. And he couldn't talk to break the silence, not without air. His throat was still raw from an hour previously – he checked his chronometer. Yes, a standard hour. How could that be? It must have been at least half a day. But no, it was only an hour ago that he had yelled and screamed in a very un-Princely manner at Obi-wan and Bail – but especially that damn fool Jedi. How could having Han Solo around be a _bad_ thing?

The silence was never-ending. According to the chronometer strapped to his left wrist, it had been a full day. How could that be? It must have been at least a week. They hadn't even gotten there yet. And the tracker was placed… wait, no, not for a few more days. How could a full day pass without a sound? Even the carpet kept his pacing footsteps silent. He wasn't sure exactly whether or not he was breathing. Had he died already, and just had yet to realize it? It seemed the only possible way he couldn't hear anything. Death was silent, true?

The silence weighed heavily on his shoulders. It pressed him down into the thick blue carpet, into the couch and the bed. At the end of every day – it had been three. How could that be? It must have been at least a month – he swore he was several centimeters shorter than he had been at the beginning of this ordeal. But it was expected that they would arrive there today. Maybe they already had – time was a strange thing.

The silence was devastatingly loud. Every time he lay down on the bed – which felt like a bed of bricks, by the way – the silence pressed on his eardrums, buzzing through his head and keeping him awake as effectively as a parade of buglers passing by under his window – or through the room itself. It had been that way for six nights, going on seven. How could that be? It must have been at least as many months. Had he slept at all? Not that he could remember. Eaten? He didn't think so, but if the chronometer was correct and he was still alive – which he wasn't so sure about – then he must have eaten. And had something to drink. And slept. But he couldn't remember doing any of those three things. Maybe he _had_ died. It would explain why no one had come by to visit. Or had they, and he'd forgotten? That could be it.

The silence was unforgiving. And in the silence, he was breaking.

* * *

><p>The team's expected arrival time came and went, but they never showed. The time they should've gotten back on their secondary route passed without a word. No one missed the apprehension levels climbing steadily around the palace. Even those who didn't know the real story were beginning to become concerned. They should've been back several days previously, and hadn't commed to explain their absence. Of course, people like Han and Bail knew this was because they were on strict orders to maintain comm silence. Bail had even locked himself out of the comm room so he couldn't give in to the temptation.<p>

Three days had passed since the second possible arrival date when Han was woken by a sharp voice. "Han! Wake up. Han!"

Groggy, Han blinked and looked around the room slowly. He was in Princess Leia's own bedroom, had been for several nights after he'd become aware of a note attached to the outside of his suite door. He wasn't sure what had prompted him to go outside the room in the first place – probably going to check if they'd come back yet – but when he had, there was a small, handwritten note on the door.

_Han – _

_I'm sorry about Obi-wan. I wish they'd at least told us sooner, now that it's too late to do anything about it. Of course, I'll miss you by my side. I'm not as confident without you here, and we haven't left the palace yet._

_Please, stay in my room until I come back. I'll be with you in every way I can while I'm gone._

_May the Force be with you, even if you doubt it._

– _Leia_

"Wha's goin' on?" Han asked. Normally he would be much more alert upon being shaken awake in the middle of the night. Tonight was the exception, because he hadn't been sleeping well in his own room, and even in Leia's was more restless than usual. But last night he had slept like a rock.

"They're back," Bail said, helping Han to sit up. Clearly the prince didn't understand; it was obvious though he didn't speak. "Han, Leia is back."

The Corellian tensed immediately, sitting stock still in the bed. The river of thoughts rushing through his head was clear. Leia was finally back? What had taken so long? Where was she? Did the mission succeed? Would they be safe now? Did they have another mission to send her on? Would she have to go to Yavin? Would they have time to get there for the battle?

But most important was the one question that made it's way out of Han's mouth. "Is she okay?"

Bail nodded slowly. Luckily, that was the good news. He couldn't bear the thought of telling Han something had happened to Leia, even if she wasn't his own daughter. "She's a little beat up, she'll be in a bacta tank for a few hours, but she's okay."

Relatively relaxed now, Han stood up. "I wanna see her."

Bail wanted to deny the request on the grounds that Leia was currently being put into a bacta tank, and Han needed his rest, too. But at the same time he knew the Corellian wouldn't sleep until he'd seen his Princess. And as Bail had the thought, he wondered if by "his" he meant his own, Bail's, or the Corellian's.

"Yes, I'll take you to her."

The Alderaanian waited in the other room while Han pulled on a shirt and some shorts – he figured it probably wasn't the best idea to wander around the palace in his boxers. Socks were almost an afterthought, and boots never crossed his mind. Had he been in the state of mind to notice such things, Han would've noticed that Leia's father was also dressed rather haphazardly, and his hair was messy and sticking up in a way that almost appeared intentional.

The "walk" down to the med center couldn't have been much faster. When they passed the servants quarters, many bleary-eyed heads poked out into the hall, having been woken by the sounds of pounding feet. By the time they got to the door, though, the only answer they got was a confused look or maybe a shrug from the person across the hall.

The miniature med center in the palace had a smattering of medical droids and sentient beings working there, but currently they had little to do but monitor the two humans suspended in bacta. On the right was Luke, but Han didn't spare him a glance, choosing instead to move slowly toward the tank on the left.

Leia's pale features were tinted by the green bacta, making her appear ill. The cuts and scrapes covering what could be seen of her body reinforced the idea. He was glad she was, relatively speaking, covered. She wouldn't want her body exposed to him, especially not in this way.

His eyes traced the cuts, starting at her bare feet and heading up to the bottom of the small white shorts giving her a modicum of privacy. Nothing too major seemed to have happened to her lower body – any bruises she may have had had healed, and there didn't appear to be any breaks. His gaze jumped the white tank top to her nearly bare left shoulder, tracing a long, deep cut down her upper arm. The flesh around it looked strange – like maybe it had been infected. Hopefully the bacta would take care of that, too. The right arm – her blaster and lightsaber arm, her dominant – was relatively untouched. Briefly he wondered if that was simply a coincidence or by design, if she had intentionally protected that arm.

Unconsciously, he realized now, he had trailed his fingers over the surface of the tank as he circled it, looking at all sides of Leia's body. The view had been, and still was, unobstructed by her hair, which was in a simple, straight braid down her back. Because it was always up on her head in various complex styles, he had never realized just how long it was – and knew it would be even longer unbraided.

Walking back around the tank, Han had to force himself to look up into her face. Aside from the first, quick look, when he'd noted that she appeared ill, he hadn't seen her face. He was afraid to.

It was a little surreal. Looking at her body, it could have been anyone. Or anything, really. But looking at her face brought about a wide range of emotions: sadness, happiness, anger, love, concern, curiousity, yearning, and… wait. Love? Yes, that was definitely in there somewhere. She appeared to be sleeping… but the view wasn't quite right. He'd seen her sleeping, and this just wasn't the same. Her face was completely slack, a little like… Currier's, after his eyes had been closed. That was it. Leia looked _dead_. The greenish flow of the bacta didn't change that. And aside from the slash on her arm, that cut across her pale cheek – so much like the one she'd gotten on Tatooine – was nasty. Was it possible that she _had_ died? Maybe they'd put her body in the tank and were faking the life signals, so that Han and Bail would sleep for the first time in over a week. Then later they could say the bacta hadn't been enough, and she was gone.

Han leaned over and retched.

Why did his mind always have to jump to the worst possible conclusion? Medical droids' programming didn't allow them to lie, and he had heard one of them tell Bail that Leia was fine, so she must be. But Han couldn't make his mind except it, when he looked up at Leia's face. Where was the life she was normally so full of?

A warm hand, a hand brimming with life, rubbed circles on Han's back while another, presumably Bail's as well, brushed his hair back off his forehead, where it was plastered to him by a cold sweat. An indifferent droid had already begun cleaning up the contents of Han's stomach. Apparently he had been eating after all.

Not able to look at either of his friends again, Han asked Bail if he would mind helping him back upstairs. He didn't want to go back to the silence and darkness, now that there was _something_. If he were left alone, he knew his thoughts would overwhelm him. Just the idea of enduring such torture made him nauseous again, and Han was forced to duck into a public refresher on the first floor. After that little episode Bail tried to convince Han to stay in the med center overnight – in a separate room from Luke and Leia – not only because the Corellian didn't feel well, but because there would be a constant flurry of activity. He'd never be alone. But Han couldn't bring himself to stay so close to those bacta tanks. Instead, he headed back up to Leia's room.

Unlike the stereotypical pink-and-white Princess-y room one might expect, Leia's bedroom had soft blue walls with red, green, and yellow designs Han knew she had painted herself. Over the green-glad bed, on the wall, was a clumsy portrait of Breha, Bail's late wife and Leia's adopted mother. Either-year-old Leia had painted it on the first anniversary of the Queen's death. Although the image didn't get her face quite right – eyes too big, mouth too small – it captured the most important aspects, like the love Breha had for her life – her family, nature, even the Rebellion. You could see the innocence still lingering in her eyes, despite the hardness of her expression brought on by the Empire. All from a child's awkward portrait.

"Leia is very talented," Han commented, eyes locked on the painting.

Exiting the refresher with a glass of water in his hand, Bail nodded agreement. "She loves art," he concurred, handing the water over. Prince Han took it with a nod of thanks. "Her favorite piece in the palace is –"

"_Killik Twilight_," Han finished. "She's shown it to me." The moss painting had positively captivated him, but the simple child's art in front of him now was still his favorite.

They were silent for a few minutes, but it wasn't the same sort of silence as before. Now it was relaxed, comfortable, easy and natural. But eventually Bail broke it to say, "I'll wake you when they get out of the tanks, so you can be there for the debriefings."

"Thanks," Han said, collapsing on the bed. He was asleep before Bail turned out the lights.


	16. It's Not Over Yet

_**Destiny Will Be The Death Of Me**_

"What'd you say, sweetheart? You gonna fly with me?"

Han Solo stood at the top of the _Millennium Falcon_'s loading ramp, hands on the meticulously pressed hips of his Rebel uniform. The rank insignia representing a general shined on his shoulder in the dim light of the quiet hangar. Leia wore a matching uniform, save for the rank and woman's cut. As she approached the dilapidated-looking ship, Han couldn't help but notice just how well it fit her. The cloth hugged her curves in a way he wished she would let him, but their relationship, despite now _being_ a relationship, had not progressed far. Although, of course, news had leaked to the public long ago that the rumors were true.

How exactly had he gone from dislike to indifference? And then from there to grudging respect and sibling-like affection. Now he'd moved on through to something _very_ different. It took almost twenty years for the whole cycle, and most of it was spent in either the dislike or indifference stages, but that was okay with him, now. Because without the past they'd had, their present would be very different. And he liked it just the way it was.

Well, almost. Ideally, he'd have been on the raid with her. And now that she was back, they'd have a few more days before leaving for Yavin, or even just another hour or two. But no such luck; they were behind schedule as it was. After Luke and Leia had been taken out of the bacta tank, they had been debriefed by pieces of the High Command. An hour after that was over, and here they were.

Despite the speed of the _Falcon_, it would take a few days to reach Yavin, and Luke was already asleep on a spare bunk. While they had been on Coruscant, Chewbacca had been working on some ship modifications, such as the aforementioned spare bunkroom. He claimed Han had helped, but for the life of him the Corellian couldn't remember leaving his suite of rooms until the day he went to Leia's, and he hadn't left there until they'd returned, had he? Regardless, the bunks were there now and the twins would need them.

Leia's pale skin hadn't recovered much color, not that it had a lot to begin with. In her hour break, Han knew she'd been rushing to pack for Yavin; she'd torn apart the bags that had been prepared and repacked everything – twice. Most of the High Command had left the planet a while ago, but Generals Rieekan and Madine had tried to urge Leia to stay behind. Both knew, of course, that it was useless, and sure enough, Leia was slowly walking up the gangplank with two duffel bags, one in each hand.

Dressed as she was, Han was unable to see how most of her injuries, especially the cut on her left arm, had healed. Her cheek, though, looked much better. Only a pale line was visible in certain lighting.

He had been unable to talk to her since she'd gotten back, but he'd been at her debriefing. Well, for the beginning of it. About halfway through he'd had to leave as she recounted a story he'd already heard during Luke's debriefing. It was different coming from her.

_Leia had declined the food offered to her – not a ration bar or seven-course meal, let alone anything in between. A glass of water sat untouched on the table near her right hand, condensation glittering in the soft light. That was her only request – turn down the lights. Maybe that was because she'd just woken up, Han reasoned. He had no way of knowing the real incentive behind the request, but he still itched to be sitting next to her, holding her hand, rubbing her back, even playing with her tightly braided hair. Anything that may possibly have calmed her. The others – especially Madine, but even the Alderaanians – seemed unaware that there was a problem, they didn't seem to realize that despite her apparent composure, Leia was not okay. A regular girl with a different upbringing would've broken down long ago. The training Leia had gone through for the past several years was the only thing that made this debriefing possible at all. But every once in a while Han noticed a small slip the others seemed unaware of. A small twitch of the hand, water sloshing in her glass, a quick, furtive glance up to the lights in the ceiling. Once or twice he saw she was chewing on the inside of her cheek or lips, and would be unsurprised to learn the metallic taste of blood covered her mouth and tongue._

_According to Leia, like Luke, they got to Coruscant without any problems. The trip via public transportation was smooth and uneventful, though a little longer than anticipated. No one seemed to recognize any of them, even Leia, in their carefully designed disguises. They were still humans, because the Empire's ill-concealed dislike of non-humans would make any non-human disguise bring them _more_ attention on Imperial Center, not less._

_Once they reached the city-planet, finding their target's general location – the Imperial Palace – was easy. Getting in was even easier. Disguised as three Kuati ship-builders on vacation, they slipped in with a tour group and were even shown the Emperor's throne room. The reclusive Sith Lord was not around for visiting hours, and their Imperial guide assured them that he would sometimes go weeks without being seen – he preferred to have Darth Vader be the face of the Empire. Of course, the officer giving the tour didn't know that that was exactly what three of his tourists were hoping for._

_That night they stayed at a decent hotel only a ten-minute airspeeder ride from the palace. Conversations were scarce due to the twins' nerves, though Obi-wan talked strategy at times. Eventually he managed to coax a few sentences out of Leia about the two times she had met the Emperor, but that was about it, and it was all information they'd been over several times in the past. The last thing either Luke or Leia remembered before falling into an uneasy, haunted sleep was Obi-wan telling stories about their father, Anakin Skywalker, in the years before he was murdered by Darth Vader._

_Everything went as planned the next morning – so well, in fact, that all three Force-users became uneasy about what was to come._

_Luke's Stormtrooper gear, hidden in a concealed pocket of his bag much like the _Millennium Falcon_'s smuggling compartments, fit him fine and were designed to add an extra inch of two within the boots and helmet. After entering the Palace separately in their new disguises, Leia and Obi-wan split to revert back to their regular appearances as a young Alderaanian princess and an aging Jedi Master. Luke, having been patrolling the Palace for several hours, rejoined the others under the guise of escorting them to the Emperor. According to Luke, Leia and Obi-wan were very composed and kept their cool, but he was shaking in his height-enhanced boots. But to hear Leia tell it, Luke and Obi-wan were as cool as a warm Hoth morning, while her thoughts were in a race with her heart and she couldn't stop trembling. Despite her comment that she was still shaking just recounting the story, the High Command was of the opinion that she could have been reading a grocery list. Her supposed discomfort was visible only to Han, and even he missed it at times._

_The small group met little resistance, especially after Luke recruited two actual Stormtroopers to help him – a single Stormie escorting two prisoners was unusual, even if they were bound as Leia and Obi-wan were. A few Imperial officers even stopped to congratulate Luke and the others for having the honor of escorting a known rebel to the Emperor personally. They were, however, unaware of the significance of the elderly Jedi Master, despite his attire. As far as they were concerned, he was just another old man who'd done something wrong. Perhaps if Obi-wan Kenobi were not thought to walk among the dead they may have recognized him, but it worked well that they didn't._

_At this point of the story, just before they reached the Emperor's throne room, Leia displayed the most concerning sign Han had seen yet – she made eye contact with him and swallowed. The glass of water was still undisturbed on the table. Something was wrong; this story was about to go south._

_The Emperor had been summoned by an Imperial officer who had seen them early in their travels through the Palace, and he sat quietly on his throne as they walked in, ready to greet the rebellious princess._

_Han's skin crawled as Leia described the wrinkled and deformed face covered by a sickly gray paper of skin. The deep cowl of his cloak apparently did little to lessen her disgust. She was certain she tensed at the sight of him, though Luke and Obi-wan, she noticed – no, she _sensed_ – were very relaxed. They were exuding confidence and comfort through the Force – a mistake, they realized, when Palpatine stood slowly, gesturing at the Stormies._

"_Leave us," he wheezed, voice raspy. Not trying to hide their discomfort, the two Imperials quickly left. Leia and Luke both recalled that the red-robed beings around the edges of the rom disappeared soon after, though to the best of their knowledge there had been no command._

_Luke from here told the story with numb emotion, but Leia was still doing the grocery shopping. Han already knew, from her brother, what happened next, and maybe that was why he was so afraid to hear Leia tell it. But maybe it was just because it was Leia._

_Luke had started to turn as if to leave, but the Emperor's grating voice stopped him. "No, you stay, Luke Skywalker." The Tatooinian stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to face his target, but otherwise betrayed no reaction. The mask hid the shock on his face, but not from the Force. "Yes, young Skywalker, I know you are under that mask."_

_At this time Obi-wan and the Emperor – whom the Jedi had referred to as Darth Sidious – were casually discussing their mutual apprentice, Darth Vader. The masked being, clad in his usual black mask and body armor, had come to stand silently, arms crossed over his chest, behind the Emperor. According to Sidious, Vader was doing quite well these days, despite the cybernetic limbs and respirator, which apparently was Obi-wan's own doing. Vader didn't seem to move once._

"_Oh, about twenty years ago," was the casual continuation. "He missed the birth of his child…" The yellow eyes fixed on Luke for a moment, then slid over to Leia. "…or more accurately, his _children_."_

_Leia did not dwell on – or even mention – her emotions at the time. She gave as straightforward and factual an account as she could. And maybe that was Han's problem. She wasn't showing any hint of how she _felt_, and it was killing him to watch her hold it all in._

_Han pushed back his chair, stood up, and left._

Leia didn't seem to hold it against him. "I guess so. I missed the other transports," she sighed, as if disappointed that Han Solo was her only ride to Yavin. But the smile on her face said otherwise as she tried to sidestep around him and onto the ship.

"Hang on a minute, Princess," Han scolded, holding her by the shoulders. His hands slid down to hers, first releasing her grip on her bags and then holding her hands gently in his. The bags landed heavily on the ramp as the Corellian continued, "I've been wanting to do this since you left."

He ducked his head to touch his lips to hers, gently. He was terrified of the changes he'd already seen since her return, and as much as he wanted to, he wasn't going to press her into another emotional situation with anything too much. He was disappointed when she only returned the kiss, but didn't press for more. Despite his worries, he had still hoped.

Han rested his forehead against Leia's. "Head on up to the spare bunkroom. Or mine, whatever works for you," he told her in a whisper.

"Well, hotshot, I might do just that," she replied, bending to grab her bags. Shooting him a wink, the Princess headed up into the ship.

Standing a few meters away and watching the entire exchange, Chewie gave a short bark of laughter and growled something to Han.

"Ah, shut up ya big lump," he muttered, heading to the cockpit. It was time to head out.


End file.
